


Sanguis Angelorum

by ariannon



Series: Bloodlines [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariannon/pseuds/ariannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clary Fray has always known her father was a bad man. That was why she'd never met him. That was why she and her mother had moved around so much. That was why her mother had taught her to shoot as soon as she was old enough to hold a gun. They'd always made it just fine on their own. <br/>So when her mother is taken, Clary is determined to get her back, no matter what it takes, even if it means getting dragged into the world her mother risked so much to escape. Now she's caught in the aftermath of a war she knows nothing about, with allies she has no reason to trust, and a new enemy she never thought she'd have to face: her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as an attempt to fix some things about the Mortal Instruments series that annoyed me and ended up as a large scale rewrite. Character ages and backstories have been altered, as well as some world building details. As a result, characters may not closely resemble their canon counterparts.

My phone rang in the back pocket of my jeans. Glancing at the name on the screen, I held it to my ear. “Simon!” I said.

“Where are you?” he asked. “I don't see you at the bar.”

I winced. “I just left work,” I told him. “I'm on my way home to change. I'll be there in ten minutes – twenty, tops!”

“Seriously?” he said. “You're going to be late to your own birthday party?”

“It's not a birthday party,” I said, “it's just drinks with my best friend. Besides,” I added, “I'm not very late.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But hurry up. I'm surrounded by attractive strangers and I don't know how much longer I can fight them off.”

“I'm at home now,” I said, unlocking the door. “Just hold out as long as you can.”

I hung up without waiting for a reply and dashed upstairs to the apartment I shared with my mother. The thick smell of oil paints hit me in a wave as I burst through the door of the apartment.

“Hey!” my mom said, not looking up from the large canvas she was working on at the far end of the room. “You going out?”

“Yup,” I said, pulling my strawberry blonde hair out of it's high ponytail. “I'm meeting Simon for drinks.”

“Drinks,” she sighed. “God, I feel old. Don't overdo it,” she called after me as I darted to my room, stripping out of my work clothes as I went.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. I pulled out a dress from the closet and stepped into a pair of pumps. “How come you're still working on that?” I yelled.

“You know I work best after hours,” my mom called back. “Plus, the client wants it by the end of the week so I can't afford to take my time.”

“You cant rush art,” I said, slipping on a pair of earrings as I walked back into the studio.

She snorted. “You can if you're paying for it.”

My heels clicked on the hardwood floor as I hurried over to her. “It looks great,” I said and kissed her on the cheek. “I'm off.”

“Have fun,” she called. “Say 'hi' to Simon for me.”

I paused at the door to grab my bag, then slipped out of the apartment. Fortunately, the bar was only a few streets down so Simon didn't have to wait long. When I found him at last, he was chatting with a gorgeous brunet at the bar with a half empty class of beer in front of him.

“Fray!” he said cheerfully when he saw me. “You're here!”

“I'm here,” I agreed and grinned. “I'm going to go purchase some alcohol now. Legally and everything.”

He shook his head. “It's your birthday,” he said. “First round's on me.”

  


A few drinks later, Simon was engaged in what seemed like a lovely conversation with a dark haired girl I didn't recognize, her arms covered in tattoos, and I was debating whether or not it was time to call it a night. Simon was still going strong, but unlike me, he didn't have classes starting at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Lucky bastard.

As I was weighing the importance of a good nights sleep against the appropriateness of bailing on my own birthday celebrations, a man slid into the seat next to me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older, with a strong, clean-shaven jaw and striking green eyes.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, with a smile that emphasized the sharp angles of his face.

I smiled back helplessly. “I was just about to go home to be honest,” I replied, biting my lip. “But I suppose I could stay for one more drink.”

The man's eyes seemed to flash in the scattered light of the bar. He waved at the bartender and said, “Another of whatever the lady's having.”

“Thanks,” I said, when my drink arrived. “I didn't catch your name...”

“Call me Marcus,” he said, his eyes flashing again. “And you are?”

“Clary,” I replied. “Clary Fray.”

We chatted for a while, well after my glass was empty, but eventually I caught a glance at the clock and remembered I had an early start the next day.

Stifling a yawn I said, “Thanks for the drink, but I really should be getting home.”

“Home?” Simon whirled around with all the ferociousness of a cat about to pounce. “You can't go home!”

“I really can,” I assured him. “And I’m going to.”

“But it's only eleven!” he sputtered.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah,” I said. “And I have to be up at six with a hangover.”

He batted that line of reasoning away with a disgusted wave of his hand.

“Good night, Simon,” I said, reaching for my bag.

He snatched it away from me defensively. “Nope,” he said. “The night's still young; you're not leaving me here by myself.”

I yanked the bag out of his grasp. “Didn't really look like you were by yourself,” I told him with a smirk. Then I frowned. “Where's your friend?”

He shrugged. “She just left with your 'friend',” he replied, pointing behind me.

I turned to see the two of them leaving, practically arm in arm. “Figures,” I said with a snort. “And now I’m leaving too. I'm sure you'll find someone else to talk to.” I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and turned to go. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“Marcus left his wallet,” I said, scooping it up from where it lay in on the counter. “Maybe I can still catch him.”

I hurried for the door, running awkwardly in the unfamiliar shoes. I stumbled out into the night just in time to see the two figures disappearing down an alley.

“Marcus!” I called out after them. “Marcus, wait!”

Neither seemed to hear me so I followed at a trot, the pavement swaying unnervingly beneath me. When I rounded the corner of the alley, I had to lean against the wall for a moment to steady myself. When I was certain I could stand without falling over, I finally looked up.

My hand flew to my mouth, trapping any sounds of surprise before they escape my lips. The girl Simon had been talking to had Marcus pressed up against the wall, a knife the size of my thumb gleaming against his throat. Two men hovered behind her. A pistol hung loosely at one man's side while the other, a blond, flipped a knife easily between his fingers.

Intent on their victim, none of them seemed to have noticed me and I took a careful step back into the shadows before any of them thought to look my way.

“Did anyone see you leave with him, Isabelle?” asked the man with the gun.

“It was a good lift,” she replied. “If anyone noticed, it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary.”

Marcus snarled something in a language I didn't understand and swung at Isabelle with a claw-like hand.

In a single, smooth movement, the gunman raised his arm and shot Marcus' hand away from the girl. As the crack of the gunshot echoed through the alley, he retrained the muzzle of the gun on Marcus' forehead.

My fingers twitched, wanting to reach for my phone. Would they notice the light from the screen? Would the cops arrive in time to do anything?

“He looks human,” Isabelle mused.

“They often do,” said the gunman.

“I know,” Isabelle replied. “It just makes it harder.”

The blond rolled his eyes impatiently. “Either kill him or get out of the way so someone else can do it,” he snapped.

“Jace,” said the other man, a faint warning note in his voice.

I bit my lip. They were going to kill him – me too, probably, if they saw me, but they were definitely going to kill him and soon. If it weren't for the haze of alcohol adding making the whole scene seem utterly surreal, I would never have considered intervening.

But I was decently drunk.

I let Marcus' wallet fall from my fingers and pushed myself into the dim light of the streetlamp. “Hey!” I yelled, my voice ringing hollowly through the street.

Four pairs of eyes fixed on me, gleaming in the darkness.

The blond leaned toward the other man and said, “Who's she?”

“That's this jerk's mark,” Isabelle replied.

“You can see us,” said the blond, the one with the knife. It might have been a question.

I frowned. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “What's going on?”

“We're going to kill this idiot,” Isabelle snapped. “You're welcome.”

“I'd actually figured that out already,” I muttered. “Why? If you want money he doesn't have any – his wallet's over there!” I pointed.

“She thinks this is a mugging,” sneered the blond.

“It's one explanation,” I said.

“You're drunk,” said the gunman sharply. “Turn around and forget about this.”

A tempting offer, to be sure. I hesitated, my store of irrational courage beginning to falter.

Before I could answer, Marcus took advantage of the distraction, surging forward, knocking Isabelle over. The gunman fired but his aim had slipped and his shot caught Marcus in the shoulder instead of between the eyes.

Marcus lunged at him, his green eyes glinting, bright and unnatural. His face was twisted into an inhuman expression of maniacal glee. His fingers biting, like steel cables, into the flesh of his opponent's neck as he bore the both of them to the ground.

The third man responded quickly. In a heartbeat he's had his knife against Marcus' throat. He didn't hesitate before jerking the knife upward in a spray of arterial blood. Black arterial blood.

Everything hung suspended for a moment, still and silent... then Marcus crumpled, collapsing in on himself in abrupt movements, until there was nothing left.

I stumbled back with a sharp intake of breath. “What the hell was that?” I asked, my addled brain desperately trying to make sense of what was happening.

“A demon,” the blond snapped, wiping the blade of the knife clean on the hem of his shirt. He turned to look at me. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”

“You killed him,” I said lamely.

“Yeah,” said the blond impatiently.

“Jace,” said the other man, getting to his feet, “leave the girl alone. It's time to go.”

Before anyone could say anything else, Simon rounded the corner, sounding out of breath. “Clary!” he said. “Are you alright? I heard yelling.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Shouldn't he have been a little concerned about the man with the gun?

“Did you find the guy?”

I blinked at him and looked back at the three behind me, their weapons in plain view. They were watching the exchange in silence.

“Yeah,” I said slowly.

“Then why are you still standing out here by yourself?”

I frowned at him in confusion, then looked back at the others. Isabelle favoured me with an apologetic shrug. Was I the only one who could see them? Was I imagining the whole thing?

Without another word, the three of them walked away, past Simon and out of the alley. I watched them go, at a loss.

“Fray,” Simon said, grabbing my attention. “Earth to Clary?”

“What?”  
He shook his head. “Come on,” he said. “Let's get you home.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day seemed to drag by heavily. I was half asleep through all my morning classes and the hangover didn't help. By the time I arrived at work and got some caffeine in me, the persistent throbbing behind my eyes had faded and I was functioning almost normally.

To say the very least, I had written off last night as a series of questionable decisions which ought not to be repeated. I hadn't had all that much to drink – at least I didn't think I had – but between the hazy memories of the night before and the hangover, I wasn't eager to visit the bar again any time soon.

By my second cup of coffee, when my blood alcohol level had returned to normal and I was thinking rationally, I had decided that whatever I had seen last night hadn't really happened. Even what my unreliable brain could recall seemed utterly unbelievable and Simon clearly hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. It seemed much more reasonable to assume I had imagined it – or perhaps someone had put something in my drink, which was unnerving in itself but at least offered a rational explanation.

All in all, it seemed best to put it behind me and move on. It did no good to dwell on it and I had customers to help.

“Hi! What can I get for you...” My words died in my throat as I recognized the next person in line. It was the blond knife fighter from the night before.

“Coffee, black,” he said, his thin lips twisting in a smirk.

I stared at him dumbly. Apparently my assessment of last night had been overly optimistic. “You,” I said, unhelpfully.

“Jace,” he corrected.

“What are you doing here?”I hissed, glancing nervously around the coffee shop. The line of customers would suggest that he wasn't invisible any more – if he ever had been.

“I came to talk to you,” he replied nonchalantly.

I blinked at him. “What? Why?”

He quirked an eyebrow, an expression of contempt on his angular face. “Why do you think?” he said. “After last night, we got curious.”

I hid a grimace. “I really hoped that was a dream,” I muttered.

He looked back at me with cold blue eyes but didn't respond.

“How did you find me?” I asked. He'd only seen me once and it had taken him less than twenty-four hours to track me down. I wondered if I should be concerned – or rather, how concerned I should be.

“It's not important,” he snapped. “You need to come with me.”

“I can't,” I argued. “I'm working.”

His eyes flickered in an expression of exquisite disdain. Charming. “When do you get off work?” he demanded.

“Four,” I said slowly.

“I'll wait,” he said in a clipped tone.

The other customers were beginning to get restless. One man leaned in impatiently and said, “What's taking so long? You're holding up the line.”

“Shut up,” Jace snapped without looking at him.

“One moment, sir,” I said with an apologetic smile. I rang in Jace's order, keeping a wary eye on him as I did. He dropped a random assortment of coins on the counter, took his coffee, and stalked away. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he flung himself into a chair in the far corner of the room and kicked his his booted feet up onto the table in front of him. He wasn't going anywhere. 

When my shift ended, I slipped out of my uniform apron and went over to him. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared down at him. Once he'd finished his coffee, he'd contented himself to stay and watch me from across the room with unreadable blue eyes. For two hours.

“I'm done,” I growled.

“Finally,” he replied, swinging his feet down from the table and standing smoothly. “Let's go.”

“Where?” I said. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Not here,” he snapped, and walked outside without so much as a glance behind him to see if I was following.

I watched him, or a moment, with narrowed eyes and then followed him out. He had long legs and I had to jog to catch up with him.

“Okay,” I said. “I'm here. What do you want to talk about?”

“Who are you?” he asked, not bothering to look at me when he spoke.

“My name's Clary Fray,” I told him, hoping that was what he meant.

“That's a mundane name,” he said, sneering the word lie it was a curse.

It wasn't the most polite response he could have given but I was beginning to suspect the 'polite' just wasn't his thing so I only rolled my eyes and moved on. “And you are?” I asked.

“But you're not a mundane,” he went on, as if I hadn't spoken.

“I don't know what that means,” I replied, frustrated.

“So, who was it? Your mother or your father?”

“Okay, no,” I snapped, rounding on him and putting my hands up to stop him where he was. “Quid pro quo. You answer my questions and I'll answer yours. Or I walk.”

It must have made for an interesting picture: me all of five-feet-six-inches, in girlish pigtails, trying to stare down a six foot stranger in combat boots. Who might or might not have killed someone the night before...

He regarded me with a thoughtful expression for a long breath. Finally he stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine,” he said.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. “Okay,” I said slowly. I paused, trying to decide which of the dozens of questions drifting through my mind I wanted to ask first. “What happened last night?”

“You'll have to be more specific,” he replied in a tone that was impossible to read.

I bit my lip. “You killed that guy,” I said. “I didn't imagine that, did I?” I already knew the answer but I wanted to hear someone else say it, to reassure me that I wasn't crazy.

“You didn't imagine it.”

“Why?”

“He was a demon,” Jace explained with an easy shrug. “It's what we do.”

My eyes narrowed. “We?” I asked.

“Shadowhunters,” he said, as if he were talking to a small child. At my blank look, his eyes widened. “You actually don't know...” he murmured.

“Know what?” I snapped.

He frowned at me. “What's your mother's name?” he asked.

“Jocelyn Fray,” I answered in some confusion.

He shook his head. “And your father?”

“Never met him,” I said, my voice hardening. “And I never plan to.”

“It must have been him then,” Jace said, half to himself.

“What must have been him?” I asked, my voice rising in exasperation.

“He's a shadowhunter,” Jace replied. “Like me.”

“Say again?”

He smirked. “You poor, pathetic creature,” he said. “No wonder you have no idea what's going on.”

“So explain it to me,” I said sharply.

He had an annoyingly smug look on his face. “Sometimes demons come through to this world to hunt,” he said. “Shadowhunters – people like me and my friends – track them down and kill them. It's what we were born to do,” he added. “And so were you.”

“No, I wasn't,” I said quickly.

He chuckled. “It doesn't work that way,” he told me. “It's not something you can just back out of. It's in your blood.”

He was wrong. He had to be. There was no way I was some kind of real world Buffy. “How do you know?” I demanded.

“Because you could see us.”

“So? Maybe you made a mistake! Everyone in the coffee shop could see you just fine.” My voice was rising again, my words running together.

“I wasn't hiding from them,” he snapped. Then he sighed. “Look,” he grumbled, pulling back the sleeve of his dark t-shirt.

“Your tattoo?” I asked, confused. It was some kind of glyph, something I didn't recognize. He had several splayed across the bare skin of his arms.

“Not that,” he said, and pointed. “Here.”

I peered carefully at the place had indicated and saw another shape, much like the others but pale and shiny lie a faded scar.

“What is it?” I asked, resisting the urge to touch his arm. Now that I looked closely, it was covered in pale scars in the shapes of unrecognizable symbols.

“It's a little trick we have,” he told me. “That one makes us invisible to mundanes – it keeps them out of our way and helps us avoid any trouble from the police.”

I frowned. “So, because I could see you,” I said slowly, forcing the impossible words through my teeth, “you think I'm a... a shadowhunter?”

He nodded. “Congratulations,” he said. “You're potentially less useless than an average person.”

“People aren't useless,” I told him sharply. “And even if you're right, what difference does it make whether I'm one of you or not?”

“What difference does it make?” His voice was one of disbelieving anger. “It makes all the difference! You have to come back with me, you have to be trained -”

“Whoa, slow down there, buddy,” I interrupted. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Then you're a fucking idiot,” he snarled.

Before I could tell him exactly where to shove his useless opinion, my phone rang. Glaring at him, I pulled it out of my pocket and held it to my ear. “Hello?” I said, trying not to growl. Whoever was calling, it wasn't their fault that this jerk had pissed me off.

“Clary Fray?” The voice on the other end of the line was polite and professional but entirely unfamiliar.

“This is she,” I replied. “Who is this?”

“I'm calling from ADT Home Security,” the voice explained. “We're showing an alarm has been triggered in your apartment.”

I drew in a sudden breath, my stomach clenching. They would have tried the home phone first, and only called me if my mother didn't pick up. With two big commissions to work on, my mother never left the house. If she wasn't answering the phone, something was very wrong.

“Can I have your security code, please?” asked the person on the other end of the line.

“Ursa,” I said, my voice unnaturally quiet. I shot a nervous glace at Jace.

He was frowning down at me, trying to figure out what was happening from the half of the conversation he could hear.

“We're sending someone by now -”

I didn't even wait for her to finish speaking. I hung up the phone and head for home at a run.

“Clary!” Jace yelled after me.

I ignored him. Something had happened to my mother, which meant I had exactly zero time for his elitist, supernatural bullshit. I hardly noticed him following after me.

My head was spinning, trying to imagine every possible scenario, every mundane explanation. I kept circling back to one image: my mother bleeding on the floor of the studio, shot by some amateur criminal who didn't expect anyone to be home. I could poke a million logical holes in that scenario but I couldn't get it out of my head. I found myself running faster.

It was a short distance to my apartment but now it felt like miles. I barely paused at the front entrance of the two story townhouse before running up the stairs to my apartment, Jace close on my heels.

I finally slowed at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway with a growing knot in the pit of my stomach. The door of the apartment was ajar, a wedge of yellow light spilling out onto the hallway floor. As I snuck closer, I saw that the wood of the door was splintered around the latch as if someone had kicked it in.

With some trepidation, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. It was something of a relief to look around the room and see no bodies anywhere, but that was where the good news ended. All of my mother's show pieces had been torn down from the walls and many of her half completed paintings had been thrown haphazardly across the floor.

“Are you going to turn that off?” Jace enquired drily.

“What?”

“The alarm,” he said, pointing.

“Oh!” In all my panic, the blaring noise had barely registered. I hurried over to the little panel by the door and typed in the code. The silence that followed was painfully loud.

“What happened here?” Jace asked, nudging one of my mother's paintings with the toe of a boot.

“I don't know,” I replied. “Someone must have broken in...”

I hurried to the kitchen and found it in similar shape. Half the cupboard doors hung awkwardly from their hinges, the contents strewn across the room. Drawers had been yanked out of their tracks and the fridge door hung open. But there was no sign of my mother.

I walked past the kitchen towards her room and my breath caught in my throat. If the front door had been broken in, my mother's had been demolished. The largest piece of wood was no bigger than my arm. The room was a disaster, not one thing still in its place. Across from me, the window was broken, painted red here and there where blood had stained the glass.

“Mom,” I breathed, running over to it, but if she had jumped out the window – or been thrown – there was no broken body on the street below to show for it.

I turned back around to see if I could decipher what had happened. There were two bullet holes in the door frame, about the right size for my mother's nine millimetre. Way to go, Mom. Just inside the door was a large black stain in the carpet, still fresh. Like the kitchen, the room had been torn apart. The drawers and cabinets had been emptied, the mattress cut open and flipped up. It was clear that, whoever had attacked my mother, they'd been looking for something – and this wasn't just a hack job robbery. They'd done a thorough search of all the rooms, leaving behind any number of valuables.

The question remained just what it was they were looking for and whether or not they had found it.

I walked back through the studio, past Jace who was crouched, looking through paintings, to my room. I was unsurprised to see it had undergone the same rigorous search as the rest of the apartment. The lock box under my bed had been dragged out and busted open, although its contents – my own nine millimetre pistol and ammunition – appeared untouched. I anxiously checked the camera on top of my dresser for scrapes an bruises but it also appeared undamaged – thank god!

“Did you paint these?” Jace called from the studio.

“They're my mom's,” I replied, walking back out to him. “Why?”

He was looking through a fallen stack of unfinished paintings. “They're good,” he said.

“I know,” I snapped, pulling the canvas gently out of his prying fingers.

Rolling his eyes, he walked out to explore the rest of the apartment.

My hands shook a little as I set about putting the paintings back in their place, moving with a ind of slow determination. If my mother was coming back – and I had to believe she was – she wouldn't want these left on the floor. When I finished stacking them against the wall, I stood the easel back on it's three spindly legs, just as Jace came back into the room.

He had a grim look on his face as he said, “What would a demon want with your mother?”

“What?” I asked, taken aback.

“There's a pool of demon blood in your mother's room,” he said. “At least, I'm assuming it's your mother's room based on the nostalgic photos and middle aged wardrobe.”

I glared at him. “My mom doesn't have anything to do with demons,” I told him, but even as I said it, my conviction wavered. Whatever had broken down the door to her room had been more than human – it had to be to have destroyed it so completely. The black stain on her carpet that Jace said was demon blood was the same inky black that had spurted from Marcus' neck the night before... and my mother was a good shot. If there were t bullet holes in the wall, there were at least three times that many in whoever had attacked her. Which meant either they were strong enough to take four bullets and walk away, or the body had disappeared, just like Marcus had.

“You know I'm right,” said Jace.

I looked away, pursing my lips, and lifted the last painting: one of the commission pieces which had slid to the floor. I froze half way to settling it on the easel when I saw that something had changed. A bright red X had been splashed across it, the paint still wet.

That particular piece of vandalism had been my mother's, I knew, and I knew what it meant: run.

It was a system we'd worked out year's before, although she'd never told me why – or even what I was supposed to be running from. I'd assumed that, like my father, it was just something in her past that she didn't like to talk about. Like when I was eight and she'd picked me up from school one day and announced that we were moving. I never got an explanation for that either, and I'd never pressed the issue.

But even though I knew what it meant, I'd never expected her to actually use the signal and for a moment, I could only stand there in dumb shock.

“What's that?” Jace asked.

“I have to go,” I told him, setting the painting down again and walking briskly back to my room.

“Why?” Jace asked, hurrying after me.

“I just do,” I said, grabbing my backpack and stuffing in any articles of clothing that were within reach.

“All of a sudden you just have to leave,” Jace snapped. “Where are you going to go?”

“Probably Luke's place,” I said with a shrug.

Luke was a friend of my mother's who'd looked after me from time to time when I was little. I'd called him Uncle Luke until I was finished high school when he insisted I stop because it made him feel old. I didn't know how he knew my mother, only that they'd known each other a long time. If any one knew what was going on with him, it would have been him.

“Boyfriend?” Jace asked, sneering.

“Luke,” I said with a choked laugh. “No. No. Ew. He's a friend of my mom's.”

“Friend?” Jace enquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Not like that,” I growled, trying to fit a sweater into the overstuffed backpack.

Jace caught my arm in long, bony fingers that tightened around my wrist like a vice. “A demon just attacked your mother,” he said. “What makes you think her idiot friend can help you?”

I glared at him and yanked my arm out of his grip; it was harder than it should have been. “My mother trusts him,” I snapped. Other than me, he was probably the only one. Although, given everything had that happened, everything that Jace had told me, I wasn't convinced my mother trusted me at all. Shaking my head, I added, “I trust him.”

It didn't come out as firmly as I'd wanted it to.

“Then how come you're here and he isn't?” Jace asked, smirking. “We can help you if you'll just come with me.”

I glared harder, rubbing my wrist. “You honestly expect me to trust you – a deranged, murderous criminal – over someone I’ve known my whole life?” I zipped the backpack tightly shut and levered it onto my shoulders, then went to my dresser to fetch my camera. “Fat chance,” I muttered.

As I turned to leave, he stepped in front of me, blocking my way. “You're really just going to leave?” he asked, disbelieving.

Sirens sounded in the distance and I remembered the woman from the security company saying someone was coming by to check things out. Had they arrived? Had someone heard the attack or the alarm and called the police?

I pushed past Jace, knowing that if I was still here when the cops showed up, I'd be buried in statements and interrogations for far too long. I didn't have that ind of time.

Jace grabbed my arm again and pulled me back, hard enough to set me off balance. “You have to come with me,” he hissed.

“No, I really don't,” I snapped, prying my arm loose.

“You're one of us,” he pressed. “You don't belong with these people.”

“These people?” I said angrily.

“Mundanes.” The word slithered distastefully out of his lips.

I shook my head, my lips pressed into a thin line. “Fuck off,” I told him neatly and turned to the door. The sirens were quite close now. I didn't have much time.

Without warning, something cracked against the back of my skull and I fell to the floor, dazed. Jace snatched at my arm, pulling the sleeve back to bare my wrist. Before I could object, something metallic flashed in his hand and I felt a sharp pain as he laid it to the inside of my forearm.

“What the...” I began, but even as I spoke, my vision started to blur. I felt another stab of pain but it felt oddly distant, almost beneath my notice. A heavy fog gathered in my mind and, in the space of a few heartbeats, I was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like hours had passed when I blinked my eyes and peered blearily at my surroundings. I was in a large and unfamiliar living room on an equally large and unfamiliar couch. The room was brightly lit, making my eyes water unhappily, but the windows were dark. My backpack was was propped against the wall with my camera case sitting neatly beside it.

I frowned in confusion and looked around, trying to figure out where I was and how exactly I got there.

The answer, it turned out, was not hard to find: Jace was sitting in a large armchair, a few feet from my head. He was reading a book, his feet propped up on the sturdy wooden coffee table.

I growled something unintelligible and lunged for him. Unfortunately, the combination of the couch and my half asleep brain made me stumble over heavy feet and I nearly went sprawling.

Jace, moving surprisingly quickly, caught me by my shoulders, steadying me. “Slow down, love,” he said with a smirk. “You can thank me later.”

Glaring, I lashed out with all my strength and punched him solidly in the jaw.

He reeled backward, letting go of me and when he looked up again his blue eyes were burning. He worked his mouth, rubbing his jaw with tense fingers.

“What the hell,” I yelled, not feeling any need to be polite.

He dropped his hand. “I could ask you the same thing,” he muttered.

“Where the hell did you take me?” I demanded, swallowing back a number of less helpful – if more satisfying – comments.

“It's Blackstone,” he said, as if that explained anything. “The New York City house.”

“I don't know what that means!” I was nearly shouting with frustration.

A woman's voice from the other room interrupted our argument. “What the hell is going on in there?”

I turned my head just in time to see Isabelle, the dark haired girl from the bar, stalk into the room. The doorway framed her perfectly, her hands on her hips and a delicate expression of irritation on her face. Her dark sweatpants and t-shirt were a sharp contrast to the skin tight jeans and bustier of the night before but she wore them with the same air of confidence.

She arched an eyebrow, taking in the scene.

“Mystery girl punched me,” Jace explained with a shrug.

Her narrow lips twisted up in a smirk and she turned to me. “What did he do?”

“He kidnapped me,” I snapped.

“Oh,” Isabelle said, shrugging her shoulders uncomfortably. “That.”

“What's wrong with you people?” I asked, at a loss.

“It was for your own good,” Jace informed me coolly.

I shook my head. “Excuse me?” I said sharply, flexing my bruised knuckles.

“And ours,” said someone else. I looked and saw the other man, the one who had been holding the gun. He was leaning against the door frame in a practised pose of nonchalance. “We needed to find out who you were,” he went on. “To find out if you were a threat.”

“She's not,” Jace. “She doesn't even know what she is.”

“Seems to me, she's more than you can handle,” Isabelle said smugly.

“Hey!” I yelled, sharp enough to cut through their banter. “I'm right here.” I paused. Isabelle had the decency to look embarrassed but Jace was unabashed. “Does anyone want to tell me why I'm here?”

Jace shot a glance at the other man. “I'll let you take this one, Alec,” he said.

The other sighed and pushed off from the wall, coming toward me. “You interrupted things last night,” he said. “That brought you to our attention. Since there are only ever supposed to be twelve of us in the city – and I know all of them – we thought it was worth looking into.”

“That, I get,” I snapped. “Sort of. But don't you think you could have just asked?”

“We did,” Jace muttered, low enough that I couldn't tell if he meant for me to hear.

Alec gave him a quelling look. “Under the circumstances, we thought it best to bring you here, among your own people, where you could be safe.”

Ignoring the sketchy comment about 'my people', I said. “What circumstances? What did he tell you?” I jerked my head at Jace.

“He said your father was a shadowhunter, but you didn't know who he was, and you needed a place to stay.”

“That's it,” I said flatly. “That's all he said?”

After a short silence, Isabelle said, “Well, there was also something about a demon in your house but that's why we thought you'd be safer here.”

Finally, unable to contain it any more, I shouted, “My mom is missing! I don't have time for this shit – I have to find her!”

There was another silence, then Alec said, “We're looking into it.”

“It's been hours,” I snapped. “How hard did you look?”

He shrugged. “You were our priority.”

My eyes narrowed. “Because I'm 'one of you'? Because my father was one of you? Well, screw him. He never did a damn thing for me. And whatever this asshole told you -” I glared at Jace. “-I don't need your help.”

“Really?” said Jace, arching an eyebrow. “You plan to take out that demon by yourself?”

“I'll figure it out,” I growled. I stalked over to the wall where my things lay piled and slung the backpack heavily onto my shoulders. I picked up my camera bag more gingerly and glared at the three shadow hunters, as if daring them to object.

They didn't, and after a brief, panicked look around the room, I found the front door and left, closing it firmly behind me.

At which point I found myself alone, on an unfamiliar, New York City street, in the middle of the night, with no notion of where I was or how to get where I was going. Another long stream of curses slid through my mind – mostly at Jace for interfering in something he had no business interfering in. It would only have been a short walk in daylight to Luke's place if only Jace had left me alone. Fucking idiot.

As it was, who knew how long it would take me to find my way there.

I reached in my pocket for my phone but it wasn't there. I wracked my brain, trying to remember where I'd put it but the last thing I remembered was getting the call from the security company. There was a good chance it was still at the apartment – or with Jace and his buddies, in which case, they could keep it. It was probably a good idea to ditch it anyway.

If I could just find the subway, I'd be fine...

After a moment's deliberation, I picked a direction and started walking.

I'd only gone a block or so when I heard a voice behind me call out, “Clary!”

I spun, thinking, for just a moment, that my mom had somehow found me. But the voice wasn't quite right – too high, although there was something in the accent that reminded me of her.

Squinting in the light of the street lamps, I could just make out Isabelle running towards me on quick feet.

“Clary,” she said again. “Wait!”

“What do you want?” I yelled, not waiting for her to catch up.

“I just want to talk,” she said as she pulled up beside me. She wasn't even out of breath.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “You can start by telling me where the nearest subway station is.”

“I can get you a cab,” she said, her eyes fixed brightly on mine.

I shook my head. “Just the subway.”

She seemed unsatisfied with that answer but she pointed me in the right direction. When I started walking that way, she kept pace with me, clearly not interested in being left behind.

After we'd walked in silence for a few steps, I said, “What do you want?”

“Just to talk.”

“You said that,” I snapped. “I'm not going back with you if that's what you're thinking.”

“I figured,” she said. “You seemed pretty pissed.”

“I'm glad it wasn't too subtle for you,” I muttered.

“Sorry about Jace,” she said. “Subtle isn't really his strong suit. He pisses me off too.”

I frowned. I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that so I finally just went with, “Okay.”

“I told Alec he should have let me go to talk to you,” she went on. “Jace isn't exactly good with words.”

“No kidding.”

She chuckled. “Yeah,” she said lightly. “I figured you'd rather talk to someone a little less abrasive, but Alec can be a bit over protective sometimes. He tries not to be, but what can he do? He's my big brother.”

“So that's what this is?” I asked, my temper colouring my voice. “A nice chat, girl to girl?”

She only shrugged. “You should have seen their faces when you left. Jace isn't used to not getting his way.”

“Seems like he has some growing up to do,” I muttered.

“I'd pay money to see you tell him that,” she said with a snort.

“Save your money,” I replied. “Tell him yourself.”

“I couldn't,” she told me, shaking her head. “He's known me too long. He has too much ammunition.” Then she sighed. “I know it must be a lot to take in. Jace said you had no idea who you were, who your father was -”

“I don't care,” I snapped. “I don't care about my father or any of that. I just need to find my mom!”

“So let us help,” she said, putting a hand on my arm. I flinched a little but it wasn't one of Jace's demanding, vice-like grips, only a gentle touch.

I stopped and turned to her squarely. “I don't know you,” I said. “I don't trust you. And nothing any of you have done has changed that.”

“Look,” she said, “if there really are demons after your mom – or after you – we're your best bet.”

“I don't exactly find that reassuring,” I muttered. “No offence.”

“No more kidnapping,” she assured me. “I promise.”

I shook my head. “I just can't help thinking that maybe my mom kept me away from you guys for a reason.”

Isabelle shrugged and I could see by the look in her eyes that she didn't consider that a valid argument.

“You don't get it,” I muttered.

“No,” she agreed. “I don't. Well, here we are,” she added, indicating the descent to the subway platform.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“A family friend,” I told her. “I can probably stay with him for a few days.”

“Is it far?” she asked.

I shrugged a shoulder. I wasn't sure where we were but it didn't really matter. I'd get there eventually, one way or another.

Isabelle frowned at me. “It's late,” she said. “At least let me take you the rest of the way there. So you're not by yourself.”

“No offence, but I don't really want you to know where I’m going,” I said. “Besides, what about you?”

She smirked. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” I said. “I'd rather go alone. It's nothing personal, it's just -”

“You just don't trust me,” she finished. “I can't say I blame you.”

I offered her an apologetic shrug. “Thanks,” I said, then, anxious to get going, I turned and headed down to the subway platform. I shot a look over my shoulder to see if she was planning to follow me but she was gone.

I let out a little sigh of relief. I'd already had more than enough of their particular brand of crazy today and all I wanted was to make it to Luke's without any more trouble.

Fortunately for me, it turned out to be a relatively short train ride to my part of the city. Luke's house was close enough to the apartment I shared with my mother that my walk from the train took me straight past my home.

There was police tape up in places and the broken window gaped eerily, dark and hollow. I kept my distance, passing on the other side of the street, trying not to draw attention to myself. There might still be police around or even more of the things that had attacked my mom.

I hurried past, trying not to look like I was hurrying but I felt the building like a sinister gaze on my back as I walked. A wave of relief settled over me when I finally turned the corner out of sight.

With a deep, shaky breath, I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulders. There were only a few blocks left to Luke's place and my mind started to race ahead. Had Luke already heard about what had happened? Had he gone looking for my mom – or me, for that matter? If he had, he might not even be home...

Lost in thought, the only warning I had was a loud shout before something slammed into me, sending me sprawling. I twisted as I fell, trying to keep my camera bag from smashing against the sidewalk. My shoulder scraped painfully on the pavement and my entire side felt like one giant bruise.

“Clary!” Isabelle's voice was nearer than before. I felt a flicker of... something, upon realizing that she had followed me – and I hadn't noticed.

I tried to get to my feet but, before I could even sit up, the thing that had knocked me over returned, slamming clawed forefeet onto my chest. It was an impossible creature, covered in barbed scales that glinted like polished steel, with a long tail like a scorpion's hanging over me. It snapped at me with jagged teeth and I thrust my hands towards its neck to keep its fangs from tearing at my face.

My palms stung where the barbs broke the skin but I hardly noticed. Twisting my legs underneath the creature, I managed to bring my knee up sharply into its belly. It gave and unearthly squeal of pain and eased off just enough to let me scramble out from underneath it.

Isabelle arrived just in time, as the creature's powerful hind legs bunched to pounce. She tackled it, in a fluid move that any football player would have envied, and the two went rolling down the street. It was hard to say who had the upper hand.

I struggled to my feet just as Isabelle broke away from the creature, her little knife glinting in her hand. The creature leapt at her and she sipped to the side with inhuman speed. Her arm was a blur as it drove down towards the thing's back, even before it hit the ground, but the blade glanced off the steely scales.

Isabelle drew back again but she'd lost time and momentum. Before she could strike again, the thing landed, twisting as it did, and swiped at her arm with its claws.

The knife tore from Isabelle’s hand and skittered across the pavement towards me.

Terrified though I was, Isabelle had saved me and now she needed help. Conscience won out over self preservation. Abandoning my backpack and camera bag, I darted forward, scooping the knife up off the ground.

Unarmed now, Isabelle lashed out with her fist, catching a few good blows on her opponents snout before another swipe of his powerful paws sent her flying across the street. I was barely two steps away from the thing when it turned back to me, all claws and teeth, and, despite the thumb sized knife, I couldn't help but feel outmatched.

It lunged for me and I stumbled to the side. I hardly matched Isabelle’s speed and grace, but I managed to get out of the way. Still, I couldn't rely on luck for long – it hadn't done me much good of late. I needed to end this.

I forced myself to keep moving, staying just out of reach, while my mind raced. Those scales were as good as armour, and if Isabelle had been unable to penetrate it, there was no way I would. But there had to be a chink somewhere. The belly and throat were soft enough, but covered in the same chain mail scales as the rest of it. The knife would do no good there.

It lunged again and I tried to dodge, but this time I wasn't so lucky. It caught my side with enough force to drive me to the ground. I felt the air rush out of my lung as I hit the pavement and, before I could catch my breath, the creature's scorpion tail lanced towards my head.

I wrenched to the side just in time and the blade buried itself several inches into the concrete.

And then I was back where I started. But now I had a knife.

The creature pulled its tail free with a jerk and scrabbled towards me, snapping at me with slobbering jaws.

Which gave me an idea – though not a good one. I caught a firm hand around its snout, high enough that fingers were safe from its snapping teeth, and, wrenching it's jaw open wide, I reached into is mouth and drove the blade of my knife into it's unarmoured soft pallet.

It squealed and thrashed wildly. I felt some of its teeth sink into my arm – not or purpose or else it would have taken the arm clean off – but I refused to let go of the knife. I waited while the thrashing quieted and finally stopped. It's eyes were the last to go, fluttering helplessly. They were unnervingly human, with an intelligence about them that ill matched the animalistic body.

When the eyes finally stopped moving and its body slumped, I twisted the knife free and pulled back in disgust. As soon as I did, the creature crumpled in on itself like a tin can, smaller and smaller until there was nothing left.

I heard footsteps behind me and I turned, shaking, to see Isabelle walking stiffly toward me. Her arm was wrapped protectively around her ribcage and I could see that she was favouring her left side.

“Not bad,” she said in a strained voice. I wondered if she'd cracked a rib when she was thrown across the street.

“What was that thing?” I asked, breathless.

“A demon,” she replied.

“Do you think this is one of the ones that attacked my mom?”

She shrugged. “Could be. It started following you a few blocks back – at the house with the police tape.”

I bit my lip. I should have known better than to go back there. “And when did you start following me?” I asked.

She gave me a sheepish smile. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe – just in case.”

“Right.” I blinked, feeling suddenly dizzy. “And why do you guys care so much about my safety?”

“Helping people is what we do,” she said. “Besides,” she added, “we're practically family.”

My head throbbed. “I have family,” I muttered. My mother wasn't dead – not till I saw a body.

“Clary...” Isabelle's tone was concerned.

I frowned. The street was... pulsing. That was odd.

“Clary, are you okay?”

“Isabelle...” My voice sounded slurred. “You're fuzzy.”

“What?”

“Your edges,” I said, speaking slowly, concentrating, “are fuzzy.”

“Oh, hell,” she muttered. “That thing didn't bite you did it?”

“Huh?”

She didn't bother to answer, but started checking me over, roughly. “Damn,” she breathed when she found the teeth marks on my arm. “Here, give me that,” she said, taking her little knife from my hand.

The street spun wildly around me and I felt strong hands on my shoulders. Then I was lying on the ground, the night sky wheeling above me, with no notion of how I got there.

A dull ache was beginning to spread up from my arm and my stomach clawed its way towards my throat. An icy discomfort spread over me, clinging to my skin like sweat, and I felt myself starting to fade out.

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

I woke with the sun in my eyes and a dry scratch in my throat. I was lying in bed – not mine, but whoever it belonged to, it was sinfully comfortable. Of course, maybe I only thought that because I was so completely drained.

A brief glance around the room told me very little. It wasn't a Luke's place – my preferred option, if I could have chosen – and it wasn't a hospital but the open door and wafting lace curtains would suggest I wasn't in any danger.

I closed my eyes and tried to put together the events of last night – my argument with Isabelle, the demon attack, passing out on the street... It all came rushing back like vomit, leaving behind a similar feeling of discomfort and bad taste in my mouth.

Still, if I was remembering right, it stood to reason that I was back at the shadowhunters' house – what had they called it? Blackstone? – and they at least claimed they wanted to help.

“So are you awake or what?”

Startled, my eyes shot open and focused on the figure in the doorway. Jace.

“Ugh, you,” I muttered.

He snorted. “No need to thank me,” he said with a smirk.

“For what?” I snapped. “Kidnapping me? Again?”

“That's what happens when you insist on acting like an idiot,” he replied with a shrug. “And you can blame Isabelle for that. I was all for leaving you there, but the other two decided it'd be best to take you in.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What happened,” I asked him finally.

“Don't you remember?” he replied with a smirk.

“I remember getting attacked by something and passing out,” I snapped. “What happened afterwards?”

“Isabelle called us; we took you back here. It was almost too late by then,” he added. “Didn't it occur to you that the Ravener just might be poisonous?”

“I had other things to worry about,” I said stiffly. “How long was I out?”

“'Out' isn't really the right word,” he mused. “You were awake for most of it – and by awake, I mean delirious and hallucinating – but you probably don't remember that. You've been sleeping it off for a few hours.”

I stiffened at his words, doing my best to ignore the unfortunate implications of what he'd said. “How long,” I said again.

“Since we got you here? Eight hours,” he said. “Give or take. Anyway, there's breakfast in the kitchen.”

Before I could ask where the kitchen was, he was gone.

“Thanks, I guess?” I muttered into the empty room.

It took me a few tries to force myself to throw off the covers and get up. When I did, I saw that my hands and arms were wrapped in clean white bandages and I was wearing someone else's pajamas. A quick survey of the room told me my own clothes were no where to be found. Except for the bed, a dresser, and the few lonely photos propped on top of it, the room was completely empty.

Eventually, I decided that, given what Jace had said, I couldn't possibly embarrass myself more by showing up to breakfast in someone else's too-small PJs.

I poked my head out the door and peered nervously around the corner. I could see a dim hallway, lit here and there by the sunlight creeping under the cracks of the doors. Walking gingerly along the carpeted floor, barefoot, I made my way down the hall to where it turned out of sight.

As I approached, I saw that it led to a stairwell. I could hear voices carrying up from the floor below so I went downstairs, walking quietly and trying not to feel like I was walking into a trap.

When I finally found the kitchen, I was greeted by a rather incongruous picture: Jace was sitting on the counter with a bowl of fruit loops; Alec was hunched at the table, clutching a cup of coffee; and Isabelle was balanced gracefully on one foot, scrounging in the fridge for juice. Looking at them now, it was hard to imagine them fighting demons at all, let alone winning.

Jace looked up as I came in but didn't say anything, which I didn't mind; my limited experience had told me that he rarely improved the silence.

“You're up!” said Isabelle, pouring herself a glass of orange juice as she slid into a chair at the table.

I nodded, somewhat dazedly. “Where're my clothes?”

“In the wash,” Alec said. “There was too much demon residue on them to let you wear them over night.”

“Those are mine,” Isabelle said, with a nod at my improvised nightclothes. “I hope they fit.”

“They're fine,” I said softly.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Is it fair trade?” I asked reflexively.

“Probably not,” Alec said flatly, taking a sip from his own mug.

“I'll just have juice,” I muttered, pulling out a chair. “Why'd that thing attack me?” I asked, after a moment.

“It's a demon,” Jace said, “not a 'thing'. You'll have to get used to the word, eventually.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “What do the 'demons' want with me and my mom?”

“I suppose it's possible you were both just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Isabelle suggested weakly.

Jace shot her a disgusted look.

“I doubt it,” I said. “They ransacked the apartment. They were looking for something.”

“Obviously it wasn't a coincidence,” Jace said, in an I-can't-believe-I-have-to-spell-this-out-for-you tone. “If they're looking for something, we need to find out what. If I had to guess, I'd say it has something to do with your dad.”

I frowned. “But why now?” I asked. “I've never even met the bastard – my mom hasn't seen him since before I was born. Why wait so long?”

“Why else go after a mundane at all?” he shot back. “Demons don't have any interest in mundanes besides their nutritional content.”

My hands clenched on the table in front of me.

“Unless they were looking for you and she just got in the way,” he continued, “in which case she's a dead end and we shouldn't bother with her.”

I almost hit him – would have, if Isabelle hadn't gotten between us before I could take two steps. “She's not dead, you bastard,” I said through my teeth. “Not until I see a body.”

He went on as if I hadn't spoken. “The fact is, the only interesting thing about either of you is your dad.”

Isabelle cut me off before I could speak. “Obviously, there's more to this than we understand,” she said, not moving from between me and Jace. “But we'll figure it out, I promise.”

“First,” Alec said, looking at me over his coffee, “you don't go anywhere alone. That means no more running away; it's not safe.”

I grit my teeth in frustration. “Fine.”

“Second,” he went on, “you have to trust us. We can't protect you if you're still keeping secrets.”

I scowled but didn't argue.

“And, Isabelle,” he added, raising an eyebrow, “don't protect him. If he's going to stir up trouble, he deserves whatever trouble he gets.”

Isabelle shot me a cautious glance, then stepped gingerly out of my way. By then, the moment had passed so I only shot Jace a hateful look and sat down again.

“Alright,” I said stiffly. “Now what?”

“How much do you know about your father?” Alec asked. “Or your mother's history with him?”

“Nothing,” I snapped. “I told you.”

“Who's Luke?” Jace asked.

I looked at him sharply. “A friend of my mom's,” I replied slowly. “I don't know how they know each other except that they go way back. He showed up when I was eight or nine. He used to look after me when my mom had big commissions to finish.”

“At your house,” Jace said. “You didn't want to leave until you saw something that changed your mind. What was it?”

I bit my lip. It felt wrong telling them this. “The red X,” I told him. “My mother put that there. It meant I had to run and get somewhere safe.”

Alec frowned thoughtfully. “She was running from something,” he said.

I couldn't tell if it was a question but I nodded, anyway. “She never said what. We moved around a lot when I was little. She always just said it wasn't safe to stay where we were anymore.”

“And you figured 'Luke's' place was safe?” Jace asked, a jeering note in his voice.

I looked back at him flatly. “I trust him,” I said. “Which is more than I can say for you. More importantly,” I added, “my mom trusts him. If anyone knows what's happened, he does.”

“Then that's it,” Isabelle said. “We have to go talk to him.”

“That's not it,” I replied, more harshly than I'd meant to. “I have some questions, too.”

The three of them turned to look at me curiously.

“Okay,” Alec said.

Huh. I'd expected more resistance. “Do you have my phone?” I sighed.

Jace rolled his eyes.

“I had it at my apartment and I didn't have it last night,” I said thinly. “Is it here?”

Jace reached into a pocket and pulled out my phone, holding it out to me. “It fell out of your pocket when I knocked you out,” he said.

“So you stole it?” I snapped. “Have you just been carrying it around with you this whole time?”

He shrugged but didn't answer.

I snatched the phone out of his hand. “Where's my backpack?” I demanded. “I need to get dressed.”

“It's in the front room,” Isabelle said. “By the door.”

“Good,” I said, getting to my feet. “Then we can leave in ten minutes.”

“That's it?” Isabelle asked, surprised.

“That's all I have time for.” I walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where I'd woken up the first time. I waited until I was out of sight of the others before I checked my phone – my new-found trust was still shaky at best. I had several missed calls and messages – none from my mother, not that that really surprised me. Two were from Simon, asking why I'd missed my morning classes, but the rest were from Luke.

I dialed his number and held the phone to my ear.

He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” His voice was even but I could hear the strain beneath it.

“Luke?” I said, keeping my voice soft so the others wouldn't hear.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Clary! You're alright!”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm fine – for now, at least.”

“Where are you?” he asked. “I'll come get you.”

I shook my head. “No,” I told him. “I'm coming to you.”

“When I heard what happened...” he murmured. “Why didn't you come straight here?”

I glanced nervously at the doorway to the kitchen. “Something came up,” I replied.

“Is your mother with you?” he asked.

My throat felt tight. “No,” I said. “I'd hoped you would know where she was.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally he said, “What's important is that you're safe.”

I wondered if I should tell him about Jace and Alec and Isabelle but I couldn't find the words so all I said was, “I'll be there soon.”

As I hung up the phone, I saw Jace lurking in the doorway. I watched him with narrowed eyes, unsure of how much he'd heard.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked blandly.

“Do I look ready to go?” I replied.

He only shrugged and wandered out of the room.

Not feeling anxious to repeat that particular encounter, I quickly found my back pack and dug through it for an acceptable change of clothes. Just as I finished slipping a new t-shirt over my head, Alec rounded the corner with a gun clipped neatly in it's holster.

Isabelle followed after him. She'd changed from her comfortable sweats into dark leggings and a tight fitting shirt that left her tattooed arms bare. Her knife was back in it's sheath, hanging at her throat like a necklace.

Jace came last, twirling his own knife carelessly between his fingers.

“Alright,” I said. “Let's go.”

“Aren't you going to take your gun?” Jace asked.

I blinked. “I can't,” I said. “I don't have a carry permit.”

The three of them looked back at me like I'd just sprouted a second head. After a moment, Jace said, “That's what you're concerned about right now?”

“Maybe breaking the law doesn't matter to you -” I began.

“It's mundane law,” said Alec. “It doesn't apply to us.”

I had one or two comments I would have liked to make on that but I kept them to myself. Arguing wouldn't do anyone any good and I didn't have time to waste. “Fine,” I muttered and went about retrieving it from the depths of my bag. My bandaged fingers itched impatiently as I checked it, loaded it, and secured it to its holster.

“Well, wouldn't you know it,” Jace said when I'd finished. “You almost look like one of us.”

“Imagine my joy,” I muttered, stalking past him to the door. “Let's go.”

I half expected some argument but Alec only said, “Lead the way.”

Feeling slightly encouraged by that, my pace grew steadier.

Isabelle hung back with her brother, but Jace, with his long legs, caught up with me in only a few steps. I waited for the inevitable sarcastic remark but it seemed he was content to walk in silence so I forced myself to relax and ignore him. It might have been easier to do if he had stopped flipping his knife absentmindedly at any point between the house and the train station.

I felt highly suspicious walking beside him with my gun clipped illegally at my hip. It seemed a wonder that no one had called the police on our little gang of sketchy looking, armed young people. Wasn't anyone the slightest bit concerned?

Maybe I was being overly paranoid.

The train station was more crowded than it had been the night before. The pressing throng of people made me nervous but no one seemed to be paying me anymore attention than usual.

Frowning, I turned to Jace and said, “Can they see you?”

“What?” he said, leaning down towards me.

“Can they see you?” I said again, impatiently. “Are you invisible right now?”

He smirked. “You'd look pretty ridiculous if I was,” he replied. “Carrying on like this with thin air.”

I scowled at him. “Can you just give me a straight answer?” I snapped. “It's not a dumb question.”

He sighed. “Yes, they can see me,” he told me, sounding bored. “Gees, Girlie, why are you jumpy?”

“Did you actually just ask me that?”

“Come on,” he said. “No demon is going to attack you in broad daylight with three shadowhunters watching your back.”

“It's not just demons I’m worried about,” I muttered.

“Tell me you're not still worried about the cops,” he said with a smirk.

I glared at him but didn't say anything.

He snorted. “You're adorable,” he muttered, shaking his head.

I wanted to argue that my concerns were perfectly rational, given the circumstances – that he would feel the same way, in my position. Only I had the feeling he wouldn't. This was his stage; he got off on this crap. And with all the emotional insight of a head of cabbage, there was no way he would understand how I was feeling.

To my relief, the train pulled up then and I boarded it quickly, putting some distance between Jace and myself.

Of course the shadowhunters were having none of that and all four of us ended up squished together. Alec, Isabelle, and Jace had managed to position themselves around me so that they made a delightfully awkward circle of protection around me.

I should have felt safe – flattered, even – but I only felt claustrophobic.

I closed my eyes and force myself to ignore them. I just had to make it Luke's place and then... what? In all of my running around in the past twenty four hours, I hadn't gotten that far in my planning. I was so focused on just getting there that I hadn't let myself be distracted thinking about what would come after. Now, Jace and his buddies had complicated things. I wasn't sure of what to do next, which I knew, from everything my mother had taught me – and from my own experience – was a dangerous place to be.

Always have a plan, my mother had told me once. Even a bad plan is better than getting caught 'cause you couldn't make up your mind. That was fine advice, but easier said than done, especially when, as I was only beginning to realize, I hardly had any of the facts.

I felt a flash of frustration at my mother for not telling me any of this sooner. I mean, I got that my dad was an ass and she didn't want either of us to have anything to have anything to do with him but how hard would it have been to just say, 'By the way, your father was part of an elitist, supernatural secret society, and this may have ramifications for you later in life. Just FYI..'

A wave of guilt settled over me. How selfish could I be? My mom was missing and I was busy yelling at her for not warning me. A stray thought snuck, unbidden, into my head: what if I never saw her again and I'd spent half the day blaming her for all of it?

I shied away from that. She deserved better from me.

I shook my head. “Sorry,” I muttered uselessly. “I love you.”

Without any warning, I heard Jace's voice an inch from my ear. “Buy me dinner first,” he whispered.

My eyes shot open and I glared at him.

He seemed unmoved. “Come on,” he said. “This is our stop.”

He pushed his way off the train, making enough room for me to follow in his wake, with Alec and Isabelle close behind. Not wanting to risk another demon attack, we took a more roundabout route to Luke's house than I'd take the night before, giving my apartment a wide berth.

That made my throat tight, although I did my best to ignore it. I knew it wasn't safe to go back there, and it wasn't the first place I'd had to leave behind, but, of all the places I'd lived, I'd lived there the longest. It was the only place that really felt like home. Now I had nowhere except a borrowed room and a space on Luke's couch.

And my mom was missing, I reminded myself. Worrying about everything else could wait until after I got her back. I could keep it together a little longer.

I was the only one who knew where we were going so I took point, but Jace hovered close beside me, his knife ready in his hand, just in case. I knew I'd be glad to have him there if a demon did show up, but in the mean time, I wished he would give me some space; I didn't like him breathing down my neck. It made me anxious to reach Luke's place, if only so I could get a little personal space.

Luke owned a little used book store and lived around the back. It was a hole in the wall kind of place, not much bigger than the living room at the shadowhunter's house, but I'd spent enough time there through the years that I could navigate it in the dark without acquiring any new bruises. I'd always found the endless rows of books – or so they'd seemed when I was younger – comforting.

When we got there, the shop was unusually dark and the front door was locked. Frowning, I cupped my hands around the glass and peered inside, but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

I assured myself that this didn't necessarily mean anything and led my companions around to the back door. It led straight into the part of the building Luke lived in which meant that, even if the shop was closed, he should hear us knocking.

I rapped anxiously at the door and held my breath.

“So your trusted 'family friend' is a glorified librarian?” Jace muttered. “Terrifying.”

“Shut up,” I snapped. I let out a little sigh of relief when I heard heavy footsteps approaching the door and the sound of the lock being turned.

The first thing I saw as the door opened was the muzzle of a forty-five. My eyes slid past the pistol to the man holding it, standing braced in the doorway with a hard expression n his face.

“Hi, Luke,” I said, raising an eyebrow .

“Clary,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Jace.

Jace, for his part, had gone very still – no doubt, on account of the gun pointed squarely between his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

“Clary, why don't you come inside,” Luke went on, softly.

Deciding I'd be in a better position to explain things from the other side of the door, I did as he said. “They're friends,” I said gently. “They're helping me.”

“I'm sure that's what they told you,” Luke replied. “But you don't know everything.”

“You mean about shadowhunters?” I asked. “So I gathered.”

Luke's aim never wavered but I saw him shift his weight uncomfortably. “You know,” he said.

“Some,” I agreed. “You want to point the gun somewhere else?”

He frowned. “You,” he said, jerking his chin at Jace. “What's your name?”

Jace's eyes narrowed. “Fuck you,” he replied. “And if you don't put that gun away -”

Alec put a hand on his friend's shoulder, silencing him. “His name's Jace Greentree,” Alec said. “I'm Alec Lightwood and this is my sister, Isabelle.”

“Lightwood?” Luke gave a little snort of surprise. “Aren't you a little young to be out hunting?”

“I'm old enough,” Alec replied thinly. “Now we've all been introduced, kindly lower your weapon.”

“They're good people,” I added softly. I didn't really have any strong evidence of that but they'd saved my life more than once already, which seemed like pretty strong evidence that, good people or not, they were on my side.

With a sigh, Luke lowered the pistol. “Hurry up then,” he said. “And make sure you lock the door behind you.”

Jace still looked to be seething but he obeyed, pushing aggressively past Luke and I, into the living room beyond. Alec followed in a more dignified manner, then Isabelle, who paused to whisper – not under her breath – “Your friend's a badass!” before continuing to the couch.

I winced. “Sorry,” I muttered.

Luke shrugged. “She's right.”

I rolled my eyes but my lips drew up in a smirk. “Shut up,” I said, stifling a laugh.

I followed Luke through to the living room where Jace was picking through the varied personal items scattered across the shelves. Alec and Isabelle, perhaps feeling somewhat constrained by a desire to be polite, had opted to sit uncomfortably on the rugged leather couch.

“What are you doing with Clary?” Luke asked.

Right to business then. “I ran into them two days ago,” I said. “One of the demons they were after was after me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow and Isabelle quickly nodded confirmation. “Bloody suspicious coincidence,” he said coolly.

“We thought so,” Alec replied.

“I meant you,” Luke said. “Showing up just in time to help when her mother goes missing.”

Alec looked taken aback. “We didn't have anything to do with it,” he said indignantly.

“Unless you count saving her life afterwards,” Jace put in, not looking up from the stack of photographs he was sifting though. “It's kind of what we do.”

Luke shook his head. He considered Alec through Narrowed eyes. “Look at you, Lightwood,” he said. “You can't be more than twenty four. Shouldn't you have some kind of adult supervision?”

“Twenty two,” Alec said slowly. “How did you know?”

“Call it an informed guess,” Luke snapped. “You're all brand new to this. I have no reason to trust you – and neither does Clary.”

I looked at him sharply. I didn't like him speaking for me, even if I trusted his judgement.

Alec pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You're not wrong,” he said finally. “We're young. But, for now, we're all there is.”

I remembered Alec saying something about twelve others, but if it was just the three of them...

“We're trying to help,” said Isabelle earnestly.

“But if you don't want us to, we'll happily take the girl and go,” Jace drawled.

“No one is taking me anywhere,” I snapped. “Least of all you.”

Alec shot Jace a quelling look. “The point is,” he said, “we can help each other. But only if you're willing to trust us.”

Luke turned to me and arched an eyebrow.

I shrugged, then decided that gesture lacked confidence and added a firm nod.

“Right,” Luke said, in a resigned tone, and laid the forty-five firmly on the coffee table.

As he did so, my eyes caught on the wide scar that curled around his left thumb. I'd seen it before, any number of times; he'd always said it was from when he was young and stupid, and couldn't figure out how to cut a bagel safely. But when I looked at it now, it looked more like one of the shadowhunters' marks than any any accidental cut, and I felt an uncomfortable, heavy feeling settle in around my chest.

“I make no promises,” Luke said, “but I’ll hear you out.”

“Where's my mom?” I asked, before the others could speak.

Luke grimaced. “I don't know. I had hoped that she got away safe, but if she had, I suspect she would have contacted us by now.”

“Why keep this a secret for so long? ” Alec cut in. “What was she running from?”

Luke gave Alec a cool look. “A great deal,” he replied, rather unhelpfully. “There were a lot of things – a lot of people – in her old life that she would have happily left behind.”

“My father,” I said, feeling my stomach twist.

Luke's face was hard to read. “Among others,” he agreed finally.

I bit my lip. “He was a shadowhunter.” It wasn't really a question but I needed to hear him say it.

“Yes,” he replied, watching me carefully.

“Well, we knew that,” Jace snapped, tossing the photos back onto their shelf. “Tell us something useful. Who was he? What are these people after?”

“You first,” Luke replied. “Only an idiot would leave New York City in the hands of three green teenagers. Which idiot was it and why haven't they been fired?”

Alec worked his mouth thoughtfully, no doubt deciding how much to share. “It wasn't intentional,” he said finally.

“So where's everyone else?” Luke pressed.

“Some went home for the Accords.”

Luke's eyes widened at that, then he blinked and shook his head in self admonition. Clearly the strange phrase meant more to him than it did to me.

“The rest,” Alec paused, considering, “were needed elsewhere.”

Luke frowned. “It's worse than I thought,” he muttered.

“What is?” Jace cut in. “What aren't you telling us?”

Luke considered for a moment before saying, “Jocelyn's husband was... perhaps not evil, but highly misguided. She made more than her fair share of enemies as a result of her relationship with him.” He paused, looking at me sadly. “You'll be safer with a little distance between yourself and all of this. It's what your mother would want.”

My stomach clenched. “Don't talk about her like she's dead,” I told him, forcing my voice not to shake. “Until we find her, I'm not going anywhere.

“I don't understand,” Isabelle said. “Just who's after Clary?”

“With any luck, no one,” Luke replied. “But it can't stay that way for long.” He turned back to me. “Especially with you going after your mother.”

He was stalling, trying to keep me out of this because he figured it's what my mom wanted. He was happy to keep me safe but he didn't actually want to help me. “I'm not just going to abandon my mom,” I said firmly. “You're not going to change my mind. So are you going to help me or not?”

Before he could answer, there was a sudden pounding at the back door, loud and aggressive. Alec and Isabelle shot to their feet.

“Damn,” Luke spat, glaring at the door with furrowed brows. “Get in the other room,” he ordered, pointing at the door to the shop. “Stay down and shut up.”

I hesitated for a moment, shooting Luke a questioning look, before doing as he said. I hadn't been raised to waste time in a crisis.

The three shadowhunters followed me through the door. I crouched down just inside, one eye peering through the narrow window to the room beyond. It wasn't a great view but, in the tense silence, I could hear perfectly.

I heard the back door open, then Luke saying, “You two. Of course.”

“Lucian, old friend,” came an unfamiliar voice, a man's.

“I'm not old,” Luke said coolly. “And we're not friends.”

There was a sound of footsteps and then Luke said, “Yes, just barge in. Why wait for an invitation?”

“I didn't feel like standing on your doorstep until I died of old age.” That was a woman's voice.

I shuffled closer to the door, trying to get a better look at what was happening on the other side. I felt Jace's hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me away from the window, but I shrugged it off. It was dark enough in the shop front that I wouldn't be seen unless someone looked closely.

“You should know, Lucian, we have no plans to kill you. For old time's sake.” That was the man again.

“How kind,” Luke replied blandly.

I caught my first glimpse of the newcomers as they wandered into the living room, into my narrow line of sight. They wore dark clothes and short sleeves that showed off the glyphs – like Jace's – on their arms. There were too many to count, layered so thickly that there was hardly an inch of unmarked skin.

“They're shadowhunters,” I breathed faintly. “At least, I think they are.”

“What?” Jace hissed back. He released my shoulder and came up beside me to see, but by then the woman had wondered out of the frame and the man had his back to us. I felt a breath of hot air across my cheek as Jace let out a silent whistle.

“There's two of them,” I pointed out.

“So?”

“So, five against two is good odds.”

“Three against two,” he corrected. His voice was soft in my ear but it still managed to convey the usual contempt. “And we have you and your friend as dead weight.”

I bristled at that but decided not to argue. Luke had told us to stay down. If all went well, these two might leave without us having to do anything.

“What do you want?” Luke's voice was wary.

“It must be awfully lonely, living in the big city all by yourself,” the woman said. “You keep in touch with any one from the old days?”

“Cut the crap,” Luke snapped. I'd only heard that tone turned on me twice and both times it had all but reduced me to a stain on the carpet. The two intruders seemed unaffected. “We all know what this is about,” Luke went on, “and I don't know where she is.”

I tensed. 'She' could only mean my mom.

The man snorted. “You were awfully quick to deny that,” he said. “Wasn't he, Lydia?”

“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you'll get out,” Luke replied.

“When was the last time you saw her?” asked the woman – Lydia, presumably.

“Not in months,” Luke told her. “We're not close.”

He'd been over for dinner just the week before, but the two shadowhunters seemed convinced.

“There were signs of another person living there with her,” Lydia said. “Who is it?”

My stomach clenched. It was me they were after, not ten feet away from them.

“How should I know?” Luke snapped. “Maybe she got remarried. She sure as hell wouldn't tell me. We haven't been on speaking terms since I... retired.”

Lydia snorted. “Is that what they're calling it these days?”

“Needless to say, it put a strain on our friendship,” he went on, ignoring her comment.

“Well, you seem to have made a nice, quiet life for yourself since you left,” said the man. “With your mundane house and you mundane shop.”

“What's your point?” Luke asked.

“One hopes it will stay quiet?” the man pressed. “As a favour for a friend.”

“If you want me to leave you alone, I'd be happy to,” Luke said thinly. “I never wanted any part of this. But, as I said before, we're not friends. Don't come back here.”

“That's a shame,” said Lydia. “It seems to me, you could use a few friends. It's safer that way.”

“They're threatening him,” I breathed. “We have to do something.”

“No, we don't,” Jace said. “He's fine.”

“I'm safe enough,” Luke snapped.

“Really?” Lydia's voice was soft. “Because it seems to be that you're alone and outnumbered.”

“They're going to kill him,” I hissed. My heart pounding like a hammer, I reached for the door knob, ready to leap to Luke's defence.

Jace grabbed me before I could, one hand wrapped tight around my torso, the other pressed over my mouth. I struggled to escape but I couldn't break his grip.

“Shut up,” he murmured. “Barging in there would only make things worse.”

I stopped moving but he didn't let go, so I could only watch helplessly.

“These days, you're as helpless as a mundane,” Lydia said, stepping back into frame. As she did, she glanced briefly towards the shop, only for a moment, giving us the first good look at her face.

I felt Jace turn to stone around me with a sharp intake of breath. His hand tightened painfully on my arm, crushing me against him.

“I am alone,” Luke agreed. “But don't think I'm helpless.” I couldn't see Luke, but whatever he was doing had the others on edge.

Jace's grip was uncomfortably tight, making it hard for me to breath.

“Let go!” I hissed, the words muffled through his fingers. When he didn't respond, I jabbed my elbow into his ribcage.

He relaxed his grip, more from surprise, I suspected, then from pain.

“What is wrong with you?” I muttered, shoving him gently away.

He didn't respond, but even in the darkness, I could see his face had gone pale and blank.

“Would you two shut up,” Alec murmured, barely audible behind me.

“Get out of my house,” I heard Luke say, drawing my attention sharply back to the other room. If his tone before had been scary, it was nothing compared to this.

“Mind if we look around first?” asked the man.

“Yes,” Luke growled, but Lydia was already turning towards the door to the shop.

I ducked down out of sight but I wasn't fast enough.

“Victor, there's someone here!” she shouted.

I scrambled back but before she could reach the door, there came an animalistic snarl and Luke crashed into her with all the force of a freight train.

“Time to go,” Isabelle said, dragging me towards the exit.

“We can't just leave him here,” I protested. “They'll kill him!”

There was a loud crash from the other room and Isabelle said, “I think he can take care of himself. We have to worry about you now.”

She was smaller than me but strong for her size. She pulled me behind her as easily as she might a child, so after a few steps I gave in and followed her.

As soon as we reached the street, we broke into a dead sprint – at least I did; Isabelle hardly seemed taxed. We took the lead with Alec and Jace hanging back to deal with anyone – or anything – that might come after us.

We didn't slow to a more humane pace until we reached the train station where we could wait safely out of sight.

“Damn you, bastards,” I gasped as I stumbled onto the platform. My sides were splitting from the run and my legs ached. I was not in shape for this. “You just left! You're supposed to protect people and you just left!”

“We were protecting you,” Alec snapped.

“Your uncle wanted to make sure they didn't find you,” Isabelle added. “He was doing everything he could to keep them away from you. If we stayed, it would have all been for nothing.”

I bit my lip, my eyes burning because I knew she was right. Who knew if Luke was alive right now, but I was safe, just like he wanted.

Jace was uncharacteristically silent. When the train arrived, he stalked onto it ahead of me and threw himself into the nearest seat.

My legs still shaking from the run to the station, I collapsed beside him.

“You never said he was a shadowhunter,” Jace said as the train pulled away.

I looked at him tiredly. “Luke?” I replied. “I didn't know.”

“You know what this means, right?” he asked with a little smirk.

I frowned. “What?”

“You don't know who your dad is, except that he's a shadowhunter,” Jace explained. “An here's Luke: shadowhunter, 'friend' of your mom's, practically raised you – and did you hear him talk about her husband? That definitely sounded personal.”

“Ew! No – stop!” I cut him off.

He grinned. “I’m just saying, there's nothing like an adulterous love triangle to spice up a marriage,” he went on in a light, teasing tone. “Maybe that's why they left.”

“Stop!” I said, covering my face to try and hold in a laugh.

“Tell me you never thought about it!”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I did,” I admitted. “When I was ten. I asked my mom about it. I wanted so much for her to say yes, but... she didn't.”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “And your mom would never lie to to?”

I shook my head. “Not about that,” I said. “If you could have heard the way she talked about my dad...” I turned to look at him. “Well, maybe you'd understand why I don't trust shadowhunters.”

“Even if your uncle is one?”

“He's not,” Alec interrupted.

“What?” Jace said, looking up.

“He's not a mundane but he's not a shadow hunter either.,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, frowning.

“Did you see the scar on his hand?”

Jace nodded. “Sure,” he said, holding up his own hand. “I have one just like it.”

Alec shook his head. “Luke's was faded,” he said. “There wasn't any power in it.”

“Wait,” I cut in. “I'm lost. I thought that's how these tattoo things work: you use them and they fade over time.”

“That's how it works for most of them,” Jace explained. “But most shadowhunters – all of them really, except you, I guess – get one like this when they're born. It's like your name; it never goes away.”

“What does it do?”

Alec pursed his lips, trying to think of an explanation. “It's an identifier,” he said at last. “Like magical dog tags.”

“And you all have this?” I asked.

Alec and Isabelle each held up a hand, showing off the same curling glyph.

“But Luke's was gone,” Alec explained. “The power wasn't there anymore.”

I frowned. “I thought it was supposed to be 'in your blood.”

“It is,” Alec agreed. “Something must have changed.”

“Well if he's not a shadowhunter or a human -” I refused to use 'mundane' “- what else is there?”

The three of them exchanged uncomfortable looks. “Maybe he's a downworlder,” Isabelle said in a hushed tone.

“A what?” I was losing my patience with all these unhelpful answers.

Before anyone could reply, the train doors opened and we had to get off. As we walked out, Alec caught Jace's arm and I heard him say, “What happened back there?”

“It was her,” Jace replied in a clipped tone.

I frowned thoughtfully and tried to lean in to hear better without them noticing.

“Are you sure?”

Jace gave a small nod.

“Are you-”

“I'm fine,” he snapped.

“Clary.” Isabelle's voice beside me made me jump. “We shouldn't dawdle. We have to get you inside.”

I looked back at Alec and Jace but whatever they'd been talking about, they weren't talking anymore. “Yeah,” I muttered. “Let's go.”


	6. Chapter 6

I was relieved when we finally reached Blackstone. With all of the people suddenly coming after me, it was one of the only places I felt safe. That didn't mean it was comfortable, however.

Next to the cozy bookshelves of Luke's place and the cluttered painting paraphernalia at my mom's, there was something eerie about the tidy, open spaces of the shadowhunter house. It seemed to me that every small noise echoed unnervingly off the walls, but I was probably imagining that.

I lingered near my backpack and camera where they sat by the door. They, at least, were comfortingly familiar.

“You should probably unpack,” Isabelle said, noticing where I was standing. “If you're going to be staying here, it'd be nice not to be living out of a suitcase.”

I pursed my lips. She was right, I knew, but it was hard to wrap my head around how I'd ended up living here – harder still to imagine staying here for any extended length of time. “Right,” I said, somewhat dazedly. “Um... I'm... I don't know where my room is.”

“Oh!” Isabelle said, as if that had only just occurred to her. “Sorry! I'll take you there.”

“Thanks,” I said, picking up my things.

Isabelle led me up the stairs to the room I'd woken up in that morning. Jace, for whatever reason, decided to follow us up.

“It's my parent's room,” Isabelle said as I dropped my things off at the door. “Mine and Alec's. But they're away, so I'm sure they won't mind you borrowing it.”

I looked at her in surprise. “You're parents live here with you?” I asked. I had imagined the three of them as hardened demon hunters – and the way they talked about their 'jobs' like they'd been doing this all their lives! I'd never imagined parents. I mean, I obviously knew they existed, in the abstract, but thinking about them here still set me off balance.

Isabelle saw my expression and grinned. “They run the house,” she explained. “When they're here, that is.”

I turned to Jace, lurking in the doorway, “Do your parents live here, too?” I asked, incredulous.

His lips thinned. “They're dead,” he replied.

I looked away awkwardly, biting my lip. “Sorry,” I said after a moment.

“I'm not sure you can take the credit for that one,” he said blandly. “But I appreciate the apology.”

"I'll... let you settle in,” Isabelle said, shooting a sidelong glance in my direction before vanishing down the hallway.

I waited for Jace to follow her out but he didn't move so after a moment I just shrugged and started laying my things out on the bed to take stock of what I had. In my haste to get out of the apartment, I'd collected a rather odd assortment of clothes.

I had a couple of graphic tees; a pair of jeans with a large rip along the thigh – not a fashion statement, just wear and tear; the dress from my night out with Simon, which would, no doubt, be very useful for fighting demons; an oversized sweater; pyjamas; sweatpants; and three socks. It wasn't much to unpack but Isabelle was right. It would be nice to settle in.

I went to the dresser and opened the top drawer. It was empty, and a quick look told me the rest were as well. Frowning, I said, “I thought Isabelle said this was her parents room.”

“It is,” Jace replied.

“Where's all their stuff?”

He shrugged. “They probably took it with them,” he explained.

“All of it?” To be fair, I didn't have a lot of experience packing for trips – my mom and I didn't vacation much – but didn't you usually leave something behind? “Are they coming back?”

Jace chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “But they had to go home for a few months on diplomatic business. Besides, shadowhunters tend to live light. We don't usually have a lot of stuff.

I knew what that was like. When I was really little, we moved around so much that I could fit all my worldly belongings into a single, child-sized suitcase. It wasn't the happiest way to live.

“Where's home?” I asked, folding a shirt to put it away in the dresser.

“Europe,” Jace replied, slinking into the room and flopping down on the bed. “It's a place called Idris.”

“I've never heard of it,” I said, yanking pair of jeans out from underneath his feet.

“You wouldn't,” he said. “Mundanes can't find it to put it on a map.”

I rolled my eyes. There was his superiority complex rearing it's ugly head. “Is it nice?” I asked.

“You'd have to ask someone else,” he replied. “I don't have a lot of good memories there.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, wondering if I should press the issue, but he spoke before I could say anything.

“It's been a little . . .” He gave a little snort. “Unstable in the past thirty years or so.”

I bit my lip. “Is that what happened to your parents?” I asked softly.

He fixed his cold blue eyes on me, his expression impossible to read, and I wondered if I'd gone too far. “It's what happened to a lot of people,” he said finally, his tone very bland.

The silence stretched between us for a long, tense moment. Then Jace reached across the bed and grabbed one of my shirts, holding it up to read the front. “The Avengers,” he said, smirking.

“They're superheroes,” I said, snatching the shirt out of his hands. “It's a comic.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You like that sort of thing?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I do. You read any Marvel?”

He shrugged. “I have superpowers,” he replied. “I don't have to read about it.”

I snorted. “Right,” I said. “You have a magic tattoo that turns you invisible.”

“Among others,” he protested.

“How many?' I asked. “Move,” I added, jabbing him in the ribs so I could get at the last piece of clothing.

He sat up slowly, eyeing me resentfully. “Twelve,” he told me. “At the moment.”

I took off my gun and went about putting it away safely in its box. The bandages on my hands made them stiff and clumsy and the skin underneath was starting to itch, so I peeled them off gingerly. The palms of my hands were raw and I could see where the demon had sunk his teeth into my arm but the deep punctures had faded to nothing more than angry red pockmarks.

“What do they do?” I asked, rubbing my arm gently. “The tattoos.”

“The usual things,” Jace said. “Strength, speed, the works.”

I went and sat beside him on the bed, eyeing the marks on his arms and wondering which did what. “Not invisibility, though,” I pointed out.

“Not right now,” he agreed. “That one only lasts an hour or so before you have to recarve it.”

I stiffened in surprise. “Carve?”

He smirked and drew something out of his pocket – a knife, but not the one he usually carried. “Why do you think it leaves a scar?”

I grimaced. “Do you have to do that every time?”

He nodded, putting the knife away.

“Sounds painful,” I said.

He shrugged. “You'd know,” he replied. At my confused look, he grabbed my hand and turned it over, showing me me a new, twisting scar on the inside of my wrist.

I blinked. “What's that?”

“It's the glyph I used to knock you out so I could bring you here,” he explained. “It means 'sleep.'”

“I still haven't forgiven you for that,” I muttered, yanking my arm free. As I did, I saw the same mark on his own wrist, layered so many times it was barely recognizable.

“There's another one on your shoulder,” he added. “To hide you so I could avoid any awkward questions from the cops.”

I pulled up the sleeve of my t-shirt to look. There it was, faint but visible. I felt a little violated. Not wanting him to see my discomfort, I got up and went to put my camera away on the dresser. There were a few picture frames there already and I had to move a pile of old photographs to make room for the oversized camera bag. Not wanting to sit down again, I started leafing through the photos, keeping my back to Jace.

“You have to admit, I was right,” he said. “You did need our help. Even if it took you forever to figure it out.”

I rolled my eyes but didn't answer.

Most of the photos were of Alec and Isabelle – though much younger than they were now – or a dark haired man and woman I assumed were their parents. Jace was in at least one photo, looking perhaps seventeen, with a familiar, sullen expression on his face.

One photograph in particular caught my attention. It was an old photograph, by the looks of it, of a dinner party. It had captured Isabelle's mother, her head thrown back in uncontrollable laughter, and the women beside her . . .

“Jace,” I said, turning around slowly, “why is my mom in this picture?”

“What?” he said, getting to his feet. “She isn't.”

I peered closely at the picture. She was younger, her dark hair lightened to a dusky blonde, and she wore an air of carefree weightlessness that was entirely unfamiliar to me. But I couldn't deny the resemblance. The longer I looked the more certain I became.

“The hair's different,” I said, holding up the photo. “But that's definitely my mom.”

“It can't be,” he muttered, taking the picture from me to see for himself. He examined it through narrowed eyes and flipped it over to look at the back. “It just says 'Maryse and Rhi.'”

I shuffled through the remaining stack of photos but that was the only picture of her. I snatched it back from Jace, staring at it in shock.

My mother had always favoured a conservative wardrobe – long sleeves and high necks. But the strapless dress she wore in the photograph showed her arms clearly, along with the black glyphs that coiled around them.

“She's a shadowhunter,” I breathed.

“Are you sure it's even her?” Jace asked.

“You don't think a person can recognize their own mother?” I snapped.

“I wouldn't.”

I bit my lip. “It's her,” I told him firmly.

“I thought you said her name was Jocelyn,” he said. “So who's Rhi?”

“he must have changed her name,” I murmured. “C'mon!”

I dashed out of the room, Jace close on my heels. AS I got to the main floor, I called out, “Isabelle! Alec!”

Isabelle poked her head around a corner. “He's in the study,” she said. “Why? What's up?”

I looked around helplessly. “Where's the study?”

Impatiently, Jace shoved past me stalking through a maze of doorways that finally led to a small library. The walls were lined with packed bookshelves, stretching from floor to ceiling. Alec sat behind a large oak desk, a mismatched pile of papers splayed out in front of him.

“I hope we're not interrupting,” Jace drawled.

“I was just thinking,” Alec said, not looking up. “If Luke was a shadowhunter, there must be a record of him somewhere. If I can just find it . . .”

“Leave it,” I said, causing Alec to glance up sharply. “There's something else I need you to look at.” I held the photograph out to him. “Do you know who that is?”

He frowned. “My mother,” he said.

“The other woman.”

He should his head, setting the photo down. “I might have seen her before but I couldn't give you her name.” He narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“I can tell you her name,” I said. I pointed a determined finger. “That's my mom.”

His eyes widened and he looked back down at the picture. “She's a shadowhunter.”

I looked away, trying to picture her in my head, to see if there was some sign I'd missed. If she was a shadowhunter, she ought to have a mark on her hand like Alec had said, but all I could see when I pictured her hands were ink stains and ingrained paint. There might have been a mark underneath, or a scar like Luke's . . .

“I can't believe we didn't think of that,” I muttered.

“The name was wrong,” Jace said, looking away unhappily. “It didn't even occur to me.”

“She obviously changed it when she went into hiding,” I replied.

“But why pretend to be a mundane,” Isabelle said, frowning. “She could have gotten help back home – why come to New York?”

“Because it was you guys she was running from,” I snapped. “Didn't you hear Luke? There wasn't any love lost there – let alone trust!”

Alec gave me a hard look but all he said was, “This is good. It gives us somewhere to look.”

I nodded, then glanced back nervously at Isabelle. I shouldn't have gotten mad at her. None of this was her fault – she wasn't even alive when my mom left.

For her part, Isabelle seemed largely unaffected by my outburst, if a little more reserved than usual. “He's right,” she said. “If we can figure out who she is – who she was – maybe we can figure out who's after her now, what they want.”

“Right,” I said, biting my lip. “If your mother knew her, maybe she can tell us.”

Isabelle looked uncomfortable. “Our parents are . . . kind of off the grid right now,” she said.

I looked at her quizzically. “Don't you have phones where you come from?”

“They're busy with the Accords,” she said. “Important diplomatic talks, that kind of thing. It's mostly a formality but they'll be out of contact until it's over.”

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair.

“But I think we can find her on our own,” Alec cut in. “There'll be some record of her somewhere – especially if she knew my mother. And we have a time frame.” He flipped the photo over. “This was taken . . .” He did some quick math in his head. “Twenty-eight years ago. And she would have left – how old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” I told him.

“Call it twenty years ago, to be safe,” he went on. “Whatever made her leave, it happened in that period.”

“Eight years is a pretty big window,” I pointed out.

“Then we'll have a lot of information,” he replied. “Some of it's sure to be useful.”

“Maybe not,” Jace said quietly. “You know how chaotic things were back then. Lots of people were never accounted for.”

“Then maybe all we'll find is a name on the list,” Alec said, a little sharply. “But it'll be something.”

“Only we don't even have a name,” Jace pressed. “We won't find any official record of her without it.”

“That's why we're not starting with official records,” Alec said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “If there was one photograph, there are probably more.”

His logic seemed sound enough, if a little vague. “Okay,” I said. “Where do we start?”

He stood and went over to what I had thought to be a coat closet on the other side of the room. He unlocked the heavy doors and opened them to reveal more shelves, back with thick books and binders. He returned with four large binders and set them down heavily on the table in front of us. The binder in the top read, MARYSE LIGHTWOOD, 1992-1993.

“What are those?” I asked, fingering the neat, square handwriting. “Scrapbooks?”

“Not exactly,” Alec replied, flipping the first binder open.

My eyes widened in surprise. It was packed full of official looking documents, photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes, but completely bereft of anything one might have called scrapbooking materials. “This is the unofficial stuff?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alec chuckled. “My mother believes in documenting everything,” he said.. “You never know what might be important later.”

“He's the same way,” Isabelle confided. “I stole his diary when I was ten and couldn't get more than two pages into it. The thing read like a field report – and a dull one at that.”

Alec pretended he hadn't heard. “Everyone take a binder and look through it for any mention her.” He tapped the picture of my mom.

Jace sighed. “Great,” he muttered, sliding unhappily into one of the room's straight-backed wooden chairs. “Why'd we agree to help this girl again?”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Because it's what we do,” she grumbled. “Besides, I like her. And, deep down in the microscopic part of you that isn't an ass, so do you.” She hopped up onto the table and started flipping through years 1986-1987

Just then, my phone rang and I fished it out. Seeing who was calling, I winced. “I have to take this,” I said.

No one seemed to care so I walked out without another word and lifted the phone to my ear. “Simon.”

“So you are alive!” he snapped, loud enough that I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “What the hell is going on, Fray? Did you know there's police outside your house?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

“You just fell off the grid without so much as a word to your best friend! Weren't you going to tell me something was wrong?”

“Sorry,” I interrupted. “It wasn't personal. It's just . . .” I sighed. “A lot's happened.”

“Spill,” he said, all traces of indignation gone from his voice. “Should I be worried?”

I closed my eyes. Now there was an interesting question. “That depends,” I answered finally. “It's complicated.”

“That's not reassuring,” he told me. “Fray, what's going on?”

I bit my lip. “I'd rather not say over the phone.”

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me where you are. I'll bring beer.”

I glanced back nervously at the study and lowered my voice, giving him the address. “It's a big house,” I finished. “You can't miss it.”

“Got it.”

“Wait,” I said. “One more thing. Come by yourself. Don't tell anyone where you're going – and stay away from my place; it's not safe.”

There was a short silence on the other end, then, “I'm not going to lie, Fray, it sounds like I’m walking into a kidnapping.”

That had been my experience, as well. “I know it sounds weird,” I said, “but I'm not sure I can leave right now.”

Another pause, then, “Hold tight. I'll be there in fifteen.”

After he hung up, a thought occurred to me and I stared down at the phone for a moment before dialling Luke's number. Each unanswered ring was like a punch in the gut, driving the air out of my lungs. When it finally went through to voicemail, I jerked the phone away from my ear violently.

He wasn't picking up. He knew I was in trouble, that I needed his help. He would have been waiting for my call – hell he should have called me before now if he had any choice. Which meant, in all likelihood, the evil shadowhunters from before had overpowered him, maybe even killed him . . .

I didn't want to dwell on that so I put the phone away and returned to the study, my stomach in knots.

Isabelle looked up as I came in. “Who was it?”

“My friend, Simon,” I said. “He's on his way now.”

Jace stiffened, his eyes narrowing on mine. “We never said you could bring anyone here,” he hissed.

“I didn't realize I needed your permission,” I snapped.

“It's not your house,” Alec said coolly. “We have to consider our own safety.”

“Safety?” I said. “Simon's hardly a threat. He doesn't know anything about this stuff.”

“I don't really trust your judgement in that area,” Jace snapped.

“Fine,” I said. “Then don't let him in, if you're so worried. I can go meet him somewhere else.” I didn't really want to leave – especially now that we were finally making some progress – but I suspected they didn't want me to leave either.

“It's not safe,” Alec told me. “Not with people hunting you.”

“That's why I told him to come here,” I said. “He's my best friend. With Luke and my mom . . .” I couldn't finish the thought. “He the closest thing I have to family, right now. I owe him an explanation.”

“Even if he isn't going to try to kill you,” Jace allowed. “It's still a risk. He could bring others here.”

“He won't,” I protested. “He's being careful.”

Jace snorted. “Mundanes don't know how to be careful.”

“Guys?”

“Would you cut it with the racist bullshit?” I snapped.

“He's right,” Alec said. “If he is a mundane, he doesn't know the risks. And if you're wrong -”

“Guys!” Isabelle's voice was louder now, cutting through the conversation like a knife.

We all turned to look.

“I think I found her,” she said, turning the page she was looking at so we could see.

My breath caught. “That's her,” I said, looking down at the picture she'd indicated.

“It says here, her name is Rhiannon Silverfox,” she went on. “She apprenticed at the same time as my mom.”

I frowned. “Rhiannon Silverfox?” I shook my head. “It sounds a bit pompous, don't you think?”

“I like it,” Isabelle replied, smiling.

“It doesn't sound right.” I tried to make the name fit my mother – tall, practical Jocelyn Fray, with callouses on her hands and strain lines on her face – but it didn't work.

“That name sounds familiar,” Alec muttered. “What else does it say?”

“Let's see . . .” Isabelle's eyes flickered quickly over her mother's meticulous notes. She flipped through twenty pages or so, before sighing. “Sorry,” she said. “There's plenty here, but not what we need.”

“Let me look,” I said, pulling the heavy binder away from her.

Understandably, most of what Maryse had recorded was not focused on my mother but I could find scattered references to her – 'two hours on the shooting range with Rhi' – buried in written notes and field reports. There were occasional updates some unnamed score – 'Rhi: 5, Maryse: 6' – though neither woman was consistently in the lead. As Isabelle had said, none of it was especially useful.

I ruffled quickly through the remaining pages, barely looking at any of them.

“Maybe there'll be more in the other books,” Isabelle said.

I shoved the binder away in frustration, then forced myself to stop and take a breath. “We have a name, though,” I said. “Can't we look her up?”

Isabelle looked uncomfortable.

“We don't keep digital records,” Alec said after a long pause.

“Why not?” I cried.

“It helps keep us off the grid, out of sight of the mundanes,” he replied calmly, as if reciting a spiel he'd heard a million times. “And given the instability at home, with the added complication of increasingly frequent demon attacks, restricted, hard-copy records are safer for everyone.”

I stared at him for a second, then rubbed my eyes tiredly.

“But that doesn't mean the name is useless,” Alec went on. “Our record keeping may been antiquated but it's thorough.”

“I thought you said all we'd find is a name on a list,” I spat.

“That was a worst case scenario,” Alec said.

“She's right though,” Jace put in. “They tried, but twenty-five years ago – hell even fifteen years ago – they hardly caught everything.”

“Ugh!” I turned away, fighting the urge to break something. I felt so murderously helpless. The answers were there, just out of reach – Maryse could tell us every damned thing we needed to know! But of course we couldn't ask her and these people were such fucking technophobes that there was no other way to find what we were looking for.

“It doesn't hurt to look,” Isabelle said, as if she were talking to a skittish animal.

“Yeah, let's just keep looking through mountains of paperwork, while, for all we know, my mom could be -” I took a deep breath. “You're right,” I said finally, turning back around. “We keep looking.

With forced calm, I pulled the binder back towards me and started looking through it with shaking fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more book keeping: Jocelyn's name was changed in order to make it fit better with the naming systems of the other shadowhunters, and to make a bigger difference between her original name and her alias; the photo is of Jocelyn and Maryse rather than the 'circle' because the changes to the backstory; Hodge is absent in my version of the story since most of the changes to worldbuilding rendered him unnecessary.


	7. Chapter 7

It was mind-numbing. I ached to actually do something – anything! – other than stare at endless lines of words until my eyes watered. When a knock came at the door, I stood with enough force to send my chair to the ground.

I dashed to the door, but Jace – curse his long legs – got there before me. He opened the door a fraction of the way and peered out suspiciously. I could only just see past him to Simon, standing on the doorstep with a case of beer in his hand an a concerned look on his face.

“We're not interested,” Jace said. “Go away.”

Simon put a firm hand on the door as Jace went to close it in his face. “Is Clary here?” he asked, undeterred by Jace's charming greeting.

“No,” Jace snapped.

“Yes,” I called from behind him. “I'm right here.”

“Fray!” Simon tried to force the door open but Jace didn't budge. “You let her go,” Simon ordered.

“I'm not keeping her here,” Jace replied, his lip curling in a sneer.

“So move,” I growled, shoving him aside.

He stepped out of the way, reluctantly, opening the door wider.

Behind his glasses, Simon's eyes were wary. “Are you okay?” he asked me.

“Mostly,” I replied.

“You haven't been kidnapped or anything?” he asked slowly.

“Only sort of,” I replied, at the same time as Jace said, “No.”

Simon regarded him narrowly. “Who's the asshole?” he asked.

“This is Jace,” I said. “Jace, Simon.”

Jace ignored me.

“I don't know if you've noticed, Clary,” Simon said blandly, “but he's an asshole.”

“I've noticed,” I sighed.

“Then what are you doing with him?”

“He's helping me.”

Simon looked sceptical. “You're sure?”

“Mostly,” I replied.

He shrugged. “Then I guess we're all on the same side,” he said, though he didn't sound happy about it. “Can I come in now?”

“Show me your hand,” Jace ordered.

Confused, Simon held up his right hand, displaying it front and back.

“Other one,” Jace said.

Simon frowned, but obeyed. As expected, both were free of any shadowhunter marks.

“Satisfied?” I grumbled.

Jace didn't answer but he stepped out of the way, letting Simon through.

Simon, demonstrating better grace than I would have under the circumstances – not to mention the patience of a saint – handed him the case of beer and stepped inside to give me a hug.

I hugged him back, desperately. I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Geez, Fray,” he whispered. “What happened to you?”

I only shook my head, stepping back reluctantly and turning to face the room.

Alec and Isabelle had followed us in while we were talking to Simon. Alec had taken up a guarded stance in the doorway to the next room. Isabelle, standing nearby, let out a small squeak as Simon turned around.

Simon regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Hey,” he said. “I know you.”

She shook her head, an odd, pinched expression on her face.

“Yeah,” Simon went on, more firmly. “We met at the bar on Wednesday night.”

I blinked. I'd forgotten about that. “Simon, this is Isabelle.”

“I know,” he said, with a small smile.

“And that's her big brother, Alec,” I said, nodding at Alec was scowling heavily from across the room.

Simon considered him cautiously. “Nice to meet you, sir,” he said. “Not terrifying at all.” He turned to me. “What's going on? Who are these people?”

I took a deep breath. “Brace yourself,” I said, “cause this is going to sound crazy.”

“Your mom's missing and you're hiding from the cops,” he said. “I was expecting crazy.”

“They're demon hunters,” I said, afraid to look and see how he was reacting. “So's my mom. So's Luke. And, apparently, so am I.”

There was a long pause before he said, “And by 'demons' you mean . . .”

“Physical manifestations of dark energy that feed on humans,” Alec said.

“I see,” Simon murmured. Another pause. “Just tell me straight, so I know: Is this a joke?”

“I wish,” I said, watching him anxiously.

Simon pursed his lips and nodded, turning to Jace. “I think I'm going to need one of those beers, now.”

Jace shoved them toward him distastefully.

Simon took one and cracked it open, sighing deeply. “Okay,” he said. “What else?”

“Some demons attacked my mom while I was out; now she's missing,” I said. “We think it might have something to do with my dad.”

Simon shook his head in disgust. “The guy's been out of the picture your whole life and he's still screwing you over,” he muttered.

“He's not the only one,” I sighed. “It turns out my mom and Luke have been lying to me the whole time.”

Simon grimaced. “Did you talk to Luke?”

I looked away. “Tried,” I said. “Some shadow hunters – like these guys – interrupted and . . . I don't know what happened to him.”

“I thought you said he was a . . . hunter . . . person,” Simon said with a frown.

“Not anymore,” I replied. “They-” I nodded at the group at large “-think he's a . . .” What had Isabelle called him?

“Downworlder,” Alec put in.

“What the hell is that?” Simon asked.

Good question. I hadn't gotten an answer yet.

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably and said, “Werewolves, vampires, witches – that sort of thing.”

I frowned. “What sort of thing?”

Another uncomfortable silence before Alec said, “Semi-immortal creatures that draw on a separate kind of magic from ours.”

“Semi-immortal?” I asked.

“They can be killed,” Jace replied coolly. “They just don't die on their own.”

I looked around at the three shadowhunters, trying to decipher the range of expressions on their faces. “So . . . downworlders are bad?” I asked.

“No!” Isabelle said quickly. “I mean, not all of them.”

“But I wouldn't invite one over for dinner,” Jace muttered with a chuckle.

“They're not entirely trustworthy,” Isabelle explained.

I thought of Luke, whom I had trusted implicitly and had never let me down – till now – and I felt my jaw clench.

Alec stepped in. “Shadowhunters and downworlders have a rocky history,” he said. “It was only a few decades ago that they signed the Accords and agreed to stop killing us.”

“Yeah, I bet that was all on them,” I muttered, none too quietly.

“Want a beer?” Simon asked, leaning towards me.

I chuckled. “No, thanks,” I said. “I think I need my brain working properly, for now.”

He shrugged. “More for me.”

“If we're done wasting time,” Jace sneered, “we should get back to work.”

“What can I do?” Simon asked.

“We're looking through old records to try and figure out who's after my mom,” I explained. Before any of the others could object, I added, “We could definitely use another pair of eyes.”

Alec didn't look happy about that, but I had a feeling Alec didn't look happy in general. He only turned and walked back into the study, the rest of us following behind him.

Simon whistled when he saw the mess of papers on the large desk. “I didn't realize you meant . . .” He made an all encompassing gesture at the table. “This.”

“Can't back out now,” I told him. “You already agreed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered

Jace seemed to be doing his best to pretend Simon wasn't there. “We have a name,” he said. “We should start comparing it to official documents. Nothing against your mom's documentation but it's a little narrow.”

Alec nodded in agreement and turned to the wide shelf behind the desk. The drawer along the bottom pulled out to reveal rows on rows of files. He barely had to look as knowing fingers darted from drawer to drawer, pulling out swollen folders. He plopped them down on the table with a heavy thud.

“Death certificates; missing persons reports; casualty lists; major incident reports; BOLOs; shadowhunter and criminal profiles . . .” He pointed as he spoke, indicating which folders contained what. With a pained expression, he added. “Try to keep everything in order so I can find it again some day.”

“He has some secret system of organization,” Isabelle explained. “He's really picky about it.”

“It's not secret,” Alec muttered. “You just haven't bothered to learn it.”

“But that's what I have you for,” she replied cheerfully. “The boring stuff.”

“You've been hanging around that one too much,” Alec said, flicking his grey eyes at Jace, who shrugged unapologetically.

We divvied up the folders and I started looking through an odd amalgamation of field reports, status updates, and what appeared to be troop movements.

“Christ,” I muttered. “Are you guys at war?”

“Not at the moment,” Alec replied, his tone unreadable. “It ended, officially, almost twenty years ago.”

I blinked. “Wait – seriously?”

He fixed his eyes on mine. “Yes,” he replied evenly.

“With who?”

He glanced at Jace. “It's complicated,” he said after a moment.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of what was being said – and, more importantly, what wasn't. “That's what you were talking about,” I said slowly, watching Jace. “When you said things were 'unstable' you meant there was a civil war.”

“Among other things,” he replied.

I scowled. That would have been nice to know – that whatever my mother was running from twenty years ago had happened in the middle of a war. That it was almost certainly bigger than any personal vendetta. This new context set our current situation in a much more ominous frame.

“How come this is the first I’m hearing about any of this?” Simon asked. “Not that I'm super informed about everything, but you'd think a full-scale civil war would have made news somewhere.”

“Mundanes don't know anything,” Jace snapped. “We like it that way.”

Simon looked at me in confusion.

“He means humans,” I clarified.

Simon nodded without saying anything and took another long sip of beer.

I turned to Alec. “You don't think this – the people coming after me and my mom – could have anything to do with that?” I asked.

He frowned. “It's possible,” he said. “I hadn't thought of that – there hasn't been a serious incident in over ten years.”

I wanted to point out that, in the scale of political tensions, ten years was meaningless, but there was no point arguing over details when we were still missing so much information. Not wanting to waste any more time, I turned back to my folder, glaring fiercely down at the letters on the page.

The contents of the folder told me a clearer story than any if the three shadowhunters could have. Most of it was regarding the actions of something referred to as 'F.U.'; further reading revealed this to mean 'Filii Umbrae' and not, as I had previously imagined, a snide abbreviation. The reports painted an angry picture as violence from both sides began to spread throughout the city. The urgency in the brief sentences made them ring in my ears.

Riots in the East City. F.U. members present. Reinforcements needed. Two dead.

The more I read, the more the numbers increased, with time and date stamps that suggested the riot had continued for the better part of a week before it could be put down. There were any number of reports describing similar incidents throughout the city. They only became more violent as time wore on.

Near the middle of the pile, I found a lengthy statement describing an attack on the Institute of Science. The demon attack and the explosion that followed had left nearly three-hundred dead. Three known F.U. Members were seen fleeing the scene; the body of a fourth was later found on site. . .

It was accompanied by a series of grainy, black-and-white photos. Four were stark I.D. Photos – of the four Filii Umbrae members, presumably. There were others as well, mostly of those victims that had been identified but a few were of the school itself, the charred wreckage sticking up from the ground like broken bones.

The words 'Verum in Obscuro' were scrawled hastily across one blackened wall – a phrase I'd seen scattered here and there through the pile of papers Alec had given me. My knowledge of Latin was limited but I was pretty sure 'verum' meant truth. I couldn't imagine what truth could possibly justify the deaths of all these people.

“Um. . .” Simon's voice was a welcome interruption.

I looked up sharply. “What?”

He held out the paper he was looking at, a wanted poster. “Isn't this Luke?”

I stared at the photo in shock. His face looked unnaturally gaunt without the thick dark beard I was used to, and his hair was uncharacteristically tidy. I might not have been entirely convinced it was him if it wasn't for the familiar, grey eyes, or the name below the photo.

“Lucian Greywater,” Isabelle read. “Wanted for questioning in relation to crimes committed by Josiah Whitehawk . . .”

As the second name dripped from her lips, I felt the three shadowhunters tense and a heavy silence settled over the room.

Simon and I shared a quizzical glance.

“So,” I said finally. “Who's that, then?”

“He was the head of the Filii Umbrae,” Isabelle said stiffly.

My stomach twisted. “You mean Luke was one of those people?” My mind flickered over the stories I'd just read – the attacks, the faces of the victims – trying to factor in this new information. I felt sick.

“We don't know that,” Simon said, examining the paper more closely. “All this means is that they think he knows something about this Whitehawk guy. That's hardly damning evidence.”

It didn't make me feel better. “Maybe not,” I conceded. “But it doesn't mean he's not one of them either.”

“There's irony for you,” Jace said with a humourless chuckle.

“How?” I snapped. “How is this remotely funny?”

Jace shrugged. “It's not,” he said. “But these bastards hated downworlders even more than they hated us. Now Luke's a downworlder - talk about poetic justice. No wonder things were so tense when his buddies showed up.”

I felt an indescribable hatred for him in that moment but I forced it down. Everything he was saying was true, even if I didn't want to hear it. “Does it say anything else?” I asked numbly.

Simon pursed his lips, concern darkening his features, then began flipping through his pile of papers to look for more answers. I saw several faces flicker by – I thought I recognized Lydia from Luke's house – before he stopped abruptly.

“Shit,” he breathed. “Clary . . .”

I took the paper from him with heavy fingers. When I saw the photograph on the page, I nearly dropped it like a snake. Rhiannon Silverfox. Wanted for questioning in relation to crimes committed by Josiah Whitehawk and the Filii Umbrae.

The words were like a knife to the stomach.

I shook my head. “This can't be right,” I murmured. “My mom wouldn't kill people.”

Jace snorted. “That's bullshit. You know better.”

“No,” I said, not looking at him. “This is wrong. She didn't know this guy.”

“Actually,” Alec said, his tone utterly blank, “she did. I thought I recognized her name before; here's why.” He passed me another sheet of paper. “He's her husband.”


	8. Chapter 8

My eyes slid over the photo, hardly seeing it. It was a man I didn't recognize, his arm draped over a woman who looked like my mother. She looked smaller, somehow, and the upward twist of her lips was an unhappy shadow of the smile she'd worn in the first photo.

“Do you want to sit down?” Isabelle asked in the silence.

“I'm fine,” I replied sharply.

So, this was it. This was dad: every bit the bastard I'd always thought he was – and then some. I'd known the man my mother married was a bad person – she'd always been very clear about that – so why did I suddenly feel like the ground was crumbling underneath me?

No wonder my mother had tried to shield me from all of this. Who wouldn't have chosen to lie rather than admit to marrying a mass murderer. Or maybe even being one herself?

My fingers shook as I set the papers back on the table.

“Clary?” Isabelle's voice made me flinch.

I felt like an iron vice had been fixed around my chest, squeezing. I couldn't breathe; my throat ached.

“I need air,” I bit out.

I turned without a second glace and made for the door, moving clumsily on unsteady feet. I felt the walls of the house pressing against me and I walked faster, desperate to escape.

I was halfway down the block before I could breathe again and I slowed, gasping for air. I doubled over, my hands braced on my knees, and I closed my eyes, trying to force my heartbeat to return to normal.

I stayed there for a long time, waiting for the tight feeling in my throat to fade.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I looked up to see Jace coming towards me, his hands in his pockets.

“What do you want?” I asked, breathing heavily.

He shrugged. “There are people trying to kill you,” he said. “We couldn't just let you run off by yourself.”

I shook my head. “I had to get out of there,” I muttered.

He was silent for a moment, watching me with unreadable blue eyes. “All things considered, I think you took it pretty well,” he said finally.

I couldn't tell he he meant it or not. I didn't answer.

“Can we go back inside now?” he asked, glancing behind him.

My stomach twisted at the thought of returning. As soon as I went back, among the shadowhunters and all their history, it would all be real again, inescapable. “I can't,” I said, my jaw tight. “Not yet.”

Jace pursed his lips, then nodded and sat down on the curb, watching the cars go by.

I eyed him warily for a moment before I lowered myself down beside him. I drew my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them protectively.

“Looks like you were right,” I said after a long moment. “This all comes down to my father.”

“Yeah,” he replied, not looking at me. “I was wrong about your mother, though. She more interesting than I gave her credit for.”

“You mean 'cause she's a war criminal?” I snapped. Simon was right, the posters didn't prove anything, but I could put two and two together.

“Maybe,” Jace said. “But she got out, left all that shit behind her, and kept it a secret from you for twenty years. Say whatever else you want but the woman was tough.”

“Is,” I corrected, almost out of habit.

He shrugged. “Who knows,” he muttered. “She survived this long; maybe you're right.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the cars speed past. I left in such a hurry that he hadn't grabbed a jacket and the October chill, nibbling through my too-thin t-shirt, made me feel vulnerable.

“Tell me about those guys,” I said quietly. “The 'Filii Umbrae' – what is it?”

“I'm pretty sure it's Latin,” Jace replied.

“No shit,” I snapped.

“You're stalling,” he told me.

“Every time I turn around, I get blindsided by something you or my mom never bothered to tell me,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. “You keep saying you want to protect me; protect me from that.”

He shot me a considering look out of the corner of his eye. “You religious?” he asked, after a moment.

“What?” the question caught me off guard.

He didn't repeat the question, only waited for my answer.

“I don't know,” I said, shrugging. “Not really. Why?”

“As the story goes, shadowhunters were created when the angel Uriel fashioned a magic cup and poured out his blood for humans to drink,” he said, sounding like he was reciting a well-known fairytale. “Those who did gained the power to fight demons and they passed that power on to their children and their children's children.”

I snorted. “Seriously?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you're American,” he said. “You shouldn't point fingers about ridiculous origin stories with Thanksgiving just around the corner.”

I sobered. “Fine,” I said. “Sorry. Keep going.”

He sighed. “The Filii figured that the story was true, except for the angel part – that we got our power from demons instead.”

I frowned. “That doesn't make any sense – you hunt demons!”

His lips twisted. “You can see why no one took them all that seriously,” he said, “until they start killing people.”

“Shit,” I muttered.

He shook his head. “Superficial religious bullshit,” he replied with a small snort.

“Actually, that's kind of a significant difference,” I said, thinking aloud. “Half the wars in Europe over the last thousand years were over smaller religious disputes than that.”

“Doesn't mean it wasn't bullshit,” he snapped.

I bit my lip. I shouldn't have said anything. It was only history for me – someone else's history – but for him, it was real. “What happened?” I asked finally.

He shrugged. “They bit off more than they could chew – shadowhunters and downworlders might not like each other but nothing brings feuding societies together like a common enemy. They started losing ground. Then Whitehawk offed himself and they fell apart.”

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling my fingers snag on the tangled strands. “I don't want to do this,” I muttered, “be one of you.”

“Them's the breaks,” he replied, unmoved. “What's your point?”

I turned my head, watching him thoughtfully. “If it weren't for my mom, I'd walk away right now.”

“You'd just leave the mundane behind?” Jace said. “I doubt he'd appreciate that.”

I glared at him but gave up after only a moment. It never had any effect. “I'll go back into that house,” I told him, “but once I get my mom back, I'm gone.”

He didn't say anything.

I narrowed my eyes. “That's it?”

He shrugged. “What can I do about it?” he muttered. “I'm not allowed to kidnap you any more.”

“But you think I should stay?” I said, watching him carefully.

He fixed his piercing eyes on me. “I think you can run all you want but you can't leave yourself behind,” he said, jaw tight. “You're going to be miserable wherever you go.”

He got to his feet abruptly.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Inside,” he told me. “You coming?” 

I gave him a hard look, my lips drawing into a thin line. “Yeah,” I said at last.

He held out a hand. Reluctantly, I took it and he lifted me to my feet in a single, smooth motion. As soon as I was standing, he turned and walked back towards the house without looking back .

As I watched him go, I felt the urge to turn and walk the other way. He was already halfway to the house; he couldn't stop me.

But the feeling passed and I went after him, running to catch up.

Jace paused to hold the door open as I came running up behind him. “Could you be any slower?” he snapped as I stepped inside.

“Yes,” I replied and walked past him to the study.

As I approached, I heard Simon say, “What is this, the Dark Ages? We could have done this in ten minutes with a computer and a comprehensive records database.”

I could practically hear Alec's responding look of subdued frustration.

When I rounded the corner, I saw that the piles of paper had been pushed to the sides of the wide oak table. Alec and Simon were hunched over, laying out a scattered time line of official documents in the middle while Isabelle pored over one of her mother's meticulous record books.

“And a determined criminal could find it in twenty,” Alec grumbled. “So could a mundane, for that matter.”

“Not if you used appropriate security measures,” replied Simon impatiently. “It's not rocket science.”

I wondered how long this argument had been going on. “Hey,” I said.

“Oh, thank god,” Isabelle said, looking up sharply. “You're here.”

Simon turned and regarded me with concern in his dark eyes. “You okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “What's all this?” I asked, indicating the neatly arranged papers on the table.

“Once we knew what to look for, it was easier to find mentions of your mother and company,” Alec said. “We're trying to build a time line from the reports and narrow down exactly when she disappeared.”

“Fortunately,” Simon muttered, “It looks like this 'Josiah' is very well documented on account of him being a delusional, traitorous mass-murderer.”

“That's good news,” I said dully. It would make it easier to find out what had happened but everything I learned made me realize I didn't really want to know.

“I can't imagine why your mom hated this guy,” Simon said, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

I gave him a weak smile. “What did you find?” I asked, leaning in to see.

A few year markers had been taped onto the table, each with its own pool of scattered information. Years 1989-1991 were the largest, their edges spilling into each other. Most of it focused on Josiah Whitehawk but I could spot my mother's face – and even Luke's – cropping up here and there.

“Your mother married Whitehawk in eighty seven,” Alec said, pointing to the appropriate year as he spoke. “That's from my mother's notes; she doesn't show up on Central's radar until the Filii started gaining ground.”

I looked at the photo Alec had indicated, of my mother and Josiah Whitehawk. He didn't look like a mass murderer, with his tousled blond hair and cheerful expression. There were others in the picture as well – I recognized Luke and Alec's parents – but I hardly saw them. I was focused on the woman in white, this 'Rhiannon' who seemed so at odds with everything I knew about my mother.

“Then what?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from the picture.

“After the first attack, Central brought in all the members of the Filii they could find,” Alec explained. “He was at the top of their lists but no one could find him. That's when they issued these.” He pointed to the wanted posters we'd found earlier.

“You sound like a history textbook,” Simon muttered.

Alec eyed him coolly.

“Anyway, your mom wouldn't cooperate, and apparently neither would any one else,” Simon said, taking over. "So they slapped her with some bogus 'conspiracy' charge.”

“You don't know the charge was false,” Alec interjected. He didn't raise his voice but it seemed to me that he wasn't thrilled with Simon's delivery.

“I made a judgement call,” Simon snapped. “I've met Jocelyn.”

“I felt my lips pull up at Simon coming to my mother's defence, even if, after everything I'd found out, I wasn't sure he was right.

“It doesn't matter,” Isabelle said impatiently.

“Anyway,” Simon went on, “things got worse and they basically charged everyone in the Filii with treason – how am I doing?” He glanced back at Isabelle.

She nodded and motioned for him to continue.

“That included your mom and the bastard she was married to – we're pretty sure Luke had already left by then,” Simon said. “Only no one could find either of them. He was always gone by the time they caught up and she was just . . . gone. It's like she just dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “That was just about twenty one years and nine months ago?”

Simon tapped his nose. “Central Authority figured that she was hiding out like the rest of the Filii, only then Josiah offed himself and they collected a bunch of Filii members and none of them had any idea where she was.”

“So, who was she running from?” I murmured, thinking out loud.

“Everyone, it seems,” Alec said. “Interrogation transcripts would suggest that she didn't leave the Filii Umbrae on good terms.”

“That's got to be who's after her now,” I muttered. “But what do they want?”

“Settling an old score?” Isabelle suggested.

I shook my head. “It seems like a lot of trouble to go to over a twenty-year-old disagreement. There has to be something else.”

“Especially since everyone thought she as dead,” Alec pointed out. “They wouldn't have had any reason to go looking for her.”

“Unless it wasn't actually her they were looking for,” I said slowly.

“Are they after you?” Simon asked. “I'm just saying, the timing works out.”

“I don't think they know about me,” I replied. “At least that's what it sounded like at Luke's house.”

“When they came to her apartment, they tore it apart looking for something,” Jace said. “I'd say she took something with her when she left – something small enough to hide easily in her home.”

I frowned. “What, though?”

“It could be any number of things,” Alec said thoughtfully. “A lot of important items went missing during the war; many were never recovered.”

Vague and unhelpful. I was noticing a trend.

“Luke knows more than he's letting on,” Jace said. “Maybe we should pay him another visit.”

“If he's still alive,” I muttered. “He isn't answering his phone.”

“Another dead end,” Jace growled.

“This is your job,” I snapped. “Isn't there anything you can do that doesn't involve mining paperwork?”

“Hang on,” Simon interjected. “'Not answering his phone' and 'dead' aren't the same thing. Maybe we shouldn't write Luke off just yet.”

I looked away. I didn't want to think about Luke right now. Even if he was alive – and I hoped he was – he wasn't the person I knew. That he was a shadowhunter I could accept – I could even understand why he'd never told me. But how could I put my unflinching trust in him when I knew he was a murderer, a war criminal?

“We don't know where he is,” I said quietly .

“Well, if you think that's and insurmountable obstacle, you might as well give up on all of this,” Simon told me sharply.

“Fine,” I replied, glaring. “Where do you suggest we start?”

He shrugged. “I'd start at his house.”

“No,” Alec said firmly. “They know where that is. They'll be watching it. We can't risk it. Besides,” he added, “I doubt he'd still be there given the way we left things.”

Simon pursed his lips. “Okay, he said, after moment. “If one of you went missing we'd probably ask your friends – other demon hunters – right?”

“I suppose,” Alec said slowly.

“So if Luke's a . . . 'downworlder,' maybe one of them can tell us where to find him.”

“If we wanted idiotic suggestions, we could just ask Clary,” Jace sneered. 'Why are you even here?”

Simon favoured him with a sour smile.

“Hey!” I snapped. Jace could needle me all he wanted – I was a big girl; I could handle it – but it irked me to see him sniping at Simon. “What's wrong with his idea?”

Jace flicked his eyes contemptuously towards me. “Did you miss that whole conversation about how downworlders and shadowhunters hate each other?” he replied. “Best case scenario is they throw us out with no new information – but I doubt they'll be in that good a mood.”

“I didn't figure you' be afraid of a fight,” I goaded, watching him carefully.

His eyes flashed but before he could respond, Alec spoke.

“The Accords are in session as we speak,” he said coolly. “It would be unwise to engage in any conflict that might interfere.”

I scowled at him. “I don't care about wise,” I grumbled. “Besides, we don't need to fight, just to talk.”

“You've never tried 'talking' to downworlders before, have you,” Jace replied with grim sarcasm. “You're lucky if you leave with all your limbs intact.”

“I have no trouble believing that's what happens when they talk to you,” I snapped. “You have all the tact of a rabid squirrel.”

I heard a choked noise from Isabelle.

“Jace is right,” Alec said. “It's dangerous.”

“No kidding,” I muttered. “But I didn't really think saving my mom was going to be safe.” I bit my lip. “Do you know where to look, or not?”

There was a long pause before Alec said, “I have a notion.”

“Then don't you think we ought to warn these downworlders that their favourite terrorist hate group is in town?” I asked. His normally blank face twitched and I knew I'd hit on a winning argument. “It probably wouldn't be so good for the Accords if the Filii Umbrae up and started killing people left and right.”

“Agreed,” Alec said with a sigh. “They should be informed.”

Jace rolled his eyes. “I'm sure that'll put them in a great mood to talk to us,” he muttered.

“I vote we leave him behind,” I snapped.

“Seconded,” Simon added.

Jace shot him a withering look. “You don't get a vote,” he informed him. “And there's no way I'm staying behind while you idiots go out and get yourselves killed.”

“He's coming,” Alec agreed, silencing Jace with a look. “If things do go sour, we'll want him there.”

I couldn't really argue with that. I didn't really want to think about the possibility that this would end with the five of us up against who knew how many downworlders.

“Do you want us armed?” Isabelle asked.

Alec pursed his lips, thinking, then nodded. “But them sheathed. And keep your arms covered. We're going to talk,” he said firmly, looking at Jace, “not to fight.”

“If you don't want a fight, you'd better make sure he keeps his mouth shut,” I said, eyeing Jace. Maybe I'd been motivated by petty vindictiveness – partly – but it wasn't altogether and unrealistic concern.

“I have to agree,” Simon said. “I mean, I don't know you very well, but everything I've seen in the past hour or so makes me think you're more likable when you don't talk. No offence.”

“Guys,” Isabelle said, frustrated – with whom I couldn't tell. “This isn't helping.” No one seemed to hear.

“I'd like you better if you were somewhere else,” Jace snapped, “but we don't always get what we want.”

“Enough,” Alec ordered, cutting off the argument sharply. “I'll do the talking; Jace will be silent.” He shot a look at Jace as he spoke.

After a beat, Jace pressed his lips together in a very thin smile and nodded, but his eyes were very cold.

“But he's right,” Alec went on. “You shouldn't be here, Simon -”

“Maybe not,” Simon cut him off. “But I am. And I'm not leaving Clary.”

“It's not safe,” Isabelle pointed out.

“Then you could use an extra body,” he replied.

Jace snorted at that but didn't say anything.

Alec's mouth worked. “You're not even supposed to know about this,” he said, his tone hard to read. “It'd be irresponsible for me to bring you along.”

“I already know about it,” Simon told him. "Besides, you're not 'bringing me.' I'm going. My choice.” It was clear they weren't going to change his mind.

“Leave it,” I said quickly. “We don't have time to stand around arguing.”

There was an uncertain pause, then Isabelle said, “Okay. Let's go.”

Simon didn't wait for any affirmation from the others, only turned and walked out with Isabelle close at his heels.

Jace scowled at his retreating back and said, “Damn mundane doesn't know what's good for him.”

“I want him there,” I said defensively.

Jace stepped towards me, leaning in so that his face was only inches from mine. “If he's dead by the end of the day – or worse,” he sneered, “I'll remember you said that.”

He stalked out before I could reply and for a heartbeat I could only stand there, stunned. I glanced at Alec, who only looked back at me evenly. Then he gave a brief nod and walked past me to the other room, leaving me alone with the thought of Simon being yanked away from me. Like Luke. Like my mom.

I didn't linger.


	9. Chapter 9

In only a few minutes, everyone was ready to go. I'd reclaimed my pistol from the lock-box upstairs an the shadowhunters had donned long-sleeved jackets to cover the glyphs that curled long their arms.

To my surprise, instead of taking us out the front door, Alec led us back through an unfamiliar part of the house to what appeared to be a covered garage. Inside were two sturdy-looking black cars and a row of five or six motorcycles.

Simon whistled. “How do you guys find room for all this stuff?”

“Very clever contract negotiations,” Alec muttered. “Everyone get a helmet.”

Jace rolled his eyes.

“You're no good to me with your head smashed in,” Alec told him firmly.

I blinked. “Wait – what?” I asked, shooting a panicked look at Simon, who only looked back helplessly.

“We're taking the bikes,” Isabelle explained, handing me a motorcycle helmet. “Here, put this on.”

“No way!” I said, taking a step back. “Can't we take the train?”

Alec shook his head. “These are best in case we have to leave in a hurry.”

“You're kidding right?” I said, as Isabelle thrust the helmet into my hands. “I don't know how to use one of these!”

“That's okay,” Isabelle said. “You can ride with me.”

“This is insane,” I breathed.

“Quit whining,” Jace growled, putting his own helmet on. “Do you want to find the damn downworlder or not?”

I glared at him but he had a point. I slipped he helmet onto my head with a resigned sigh. “I can't believe this is happening right now,” I muttered.

“I think it's kind of exciting,” Simon remarked.

“Clary will go with Isabelle,” Alec said. “Simon, you can come with me.”

“Lovely,” Simon replied, eyeing the bikes with a leery expression.

Isabelle slung a leg over one of the bikes and settled comfortably in the seat. “Come on,” she told me, beckoning with a gloved hand.

“I'm so going to regret this,” I muttered, but I forced down the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach and climbed on behind her.

Alec and Simon led the way out to the street with Isabelle and I close behind. Jace took up the rear.

As soon as the bike started moving, I found myself clinging desperately to Isabelle. Part of me worried that my grip would throw off her balance but I was terrified that if I loosened it at all, the next bump in the road would send me tumbling off the back end of the bike. And then Jace would see, and I'd never live it down. I held on tighter.

As we got out to the main road the surrounding vehicles grew slower and more tightly packed. Alec apparently didn't see this as an obstacle since he simply went zigzagging between the cars at a speed that I judged to be well above the posted limit. Isabelle's driving was, if anything, more reckless – or may it was just that I got to experience it first hand. More than once, I felt my heart drop into my stomach as the fender of a nearby vehicle swung within inches of my leg.

At one point, Isabelle dodged around a sopped car by slipping left into oncoming traffic. I felt a growing feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach as the stream of cars bore down on us, only for Isabelle to squeeze back into her own lane at the last possible second.

“I'm going to die,” I said dazedly, my heart pounding in my ears.

“Relax,” Isabelle replied, ignoring the cacophony of car horns she'd left in her wake. “I'm not going to hit anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as the front end of a cab missed us by the narrowest of margins. “You're insane!” I squeaked.

She only laughed.

“Would it really be that bad to just abide by basic traffic laws?” I asked wincing as she pulled into an illegal left turn through a narrow gap in traffic.

“This way's faster,” she told me.

Grimacing, I decided to drop the argument and focus on not falling off.

When Isabelle finally came to a halt beside Alec and Simon, and killed the engine, it was a struggle to pry my reluctant fingers loose from her torso.

“It's alright, Clary; we're stopped,” she said, in a tone of dry amusement.

I let go and hauled myself off the bike just as Jace pulled up beside us. My legs felt unsteady and it was a minute or two before I was sure they wouldn't just give out.

“You okay, Clary?” Isabelle asked, amusement giving way to concern.

I nodded. “Just give me a sec,” I replied, pulling the helmet off as quickly as I could. I had to brace myself on my knees, forcing myself to breath normally.

Jace, taking his own helmet off, crouched down beside me and smirked. “Have fun?” he asked.

I glanced across at him. “Fuck you,” I panted.

He snorted. “It's a bike, not a tiger,” he told me drily. “I think you'll survive.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I thought you weren't supposed to talk,” I said, straightening.

He shrugged. “I can't talk to the downworlders,” he said. “Doesn't mean I can't talk to you.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned to check on Simon. He seemed to be doing much better than I was. Lucky bastard.

At last, I looked up at the building where we'd stopped. I frowned, genuinely unsure if we'd arrived at the right place. It was a small, rundown store, in a row of similarly rundown stores, that looked like it hadn't sen a customer in months.

“Your downworlders work at Blockbuster?” I asked incredulously.

“It's a glamour,” Alec explained. “Faerie magic – to keep mundanes from wandering in by accident.”

“How do we get in?” I asked.

“The door,” Jace drawled.

“I'll go in first,” Alec said. “Clary, you and Simon keep your heads down and stay behind me.”

I nodded. It seemed a little paranoid to me but I didn't complain. At least we were getting somewhere.

“I wonder what the inside looks like,” mused Simon as we followed Alec towards the doors.

“I guess we'll find out,” I muttered.

For just a moment, right as I stepped across the threshold, the edges of the building seemed to shimmer like a mirage on hot concrete. Then, in the next instant, it solidified into something entirely different.

On the inside, it was something between an old fashion pub and a coffee shop. There were high backed stalls, and a bar along one side of the room, but through the centre was an odd mix of armchairs and sofas, interspersed with small tables. It seemed unusually full for late afternoon on a weekday and the gentle clamour of conversation echoed off the walls.

It didn't immediately grow quiet when we came inside but I could feel the thick tension growing in the air as more and more pairs of hostile eyes fixed on us.

Finally a big man stood up from one of the armchairs nearest the door and turned towards us. “You've no business being here,” he said in a rumbling bass.

Alec held up his hands in what seemed a subconscious gesture of surrender – although, knowing him, it was probably entirely intentional. “We're not looking for trouble,” he said, his tone neutral. “We have a warning.”

Behind me, Jace and Isabelle had flared out to either side of the door, scanning the room with wary eyes. Jace, true to his word, was silent, settling for simply glaring daggers at anyone who got too close. Or, really, just glaring at everyone.

The big man chuckled, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep beneath our feet. “'Doesn't want trouble,' he says,” the man told his companion, still seated beside him. “Just to warn us about it.” He turned back to Alec with cold, black eyes. “Speak carefully, shadowhunter. You have few friends here.”

Keeping his hands up, where the others could see them, Alec said, “We believe the Filii Umbrae is working here, in New York City.”

The man's companion hissed through his teeth. “They are dead,” he said coolly.

“They're not,” Alec replied. “We've seen them.”

“Must have been a friendly exchange,” the big man rumbled. “A bunch of children against the shadows and not a scratch on you.”

“It wasn't us they were after,” Alec explained. “We're looking for the man they attacked.”

“So you can hand him over to them?” That was a woman at another table, a long scar running down the right side of her face. “Or kill him yourselves.”

“This is going nowhere, fast,” Simon muttered.

Given the hostility I was sensing from everyone in the room, I could only agree.

Without another word, Simon shrugged, and stepped forward, waving a hand. “Hey!” he said.

My heart stopped for a moment and everyone grew very tense, but Simon just powered through as if he didn't notice.

“My name's Simon,” he said. “I'm not with these guys – I men, I came with them, but I'm not a shadowhunter.” He pulled up his sleeves to show off bare arms. “See? No weird tattoo things.”

“Simon!” I hissed, trying to catch his eye.

“Just hear me out,” he went on. “I now you don't like these guys much – I don't blame you! – but I'm not one of them.” He looked at me.”And she's . . .”

I waved my hand at my throat in a frantic nixing gesture.

“Never mind about her,” he said quickly. “The thing is, the guy we're looking for is a friend.”

The big man's lips pulled up in a bemused smile. “You've got guts for a human.”

Simon only shrugged while Alec regarded him silently, wearing an unreadable expression.

The downworlder sighed. “Kid, odds are, your friend is already dead.”

My stomach clenched and Simon looked at me unhappily. “I know,” he said. “But if there's any chance he's not, we've got to find him.”

“What are shadowhunters doing with a mundane?” asked the woman with the scar.

“He's a friend,” I said, my throat dry.

“I just kind of invited myself along,” Simon added.

“I don't know about this,” said the woman suspiciously.

“We're not lying,” Isabelle told her. “We're trying to help.”

“We don't need help from a shadowhunter bitch,” sneered a third man.

I didn't even see Jace draw his knife before it thudded into the wall a few inches from the man's head. He didn't eve flinch but his lip curled in a snarl and his yellow eyes flashed angrily.

“Jace!” Alec snapped, but the damage had been done.

Simon turned around to see what had happened and quickly took a step back from Jace.

The yellow eyed man pulled the knife free fr the wall without any apparent effort and hurled it at Jace. His aim wasn't as good but his arm was stronger and the hilt of the knife left a small hold in the wall where it struck.

Ace drew another knife – from where, I couldn't tell – and fell into a fighter's crouch as the downworlder advanced on him.

Isabelle’s hand flew to her own knife, but she stopped herself, looking to Alec for orders. Alec, for his part, growled something I didn't understand and stepped in as the downworlder lunged, trying to get between him and Jace.

It seemed like the yellow eyed downworlder was nearly a match for the two of them. I shot a desperate glance at Simon. If we didn't end this soon, things were going to get out of hand.

Narrowly dodging a fist, Alec managed to force himself between Jace and his attacker, giving him a moment's respite.

Before the fighting could resume, the big man said, “Leave off, Andre. People are trying to eat.”

“He attacked me,” the other man snarled.

“Our apologies,” Alec said quickly. “That was poorly done.”

“There, you see?” the big man said. “They've apologized.”

“I want to hear it from him,” said Andre, jerking his chin at Jace.

Alec turned to Jace who looked back silently, his lips pressed together in a smirk. The silence stretched out but just as I thought everything would devolve back into fighting, Jace shrugged and said, “Sorry,” with all the sincerity of a crocodile.

I wasn't sure if it would work but finally Andre stepped back and stalked out without another word.

“For people who don't want trouble, you seem to make a lot of it,” said the woman with the scar.

Alec shot a look back at Jace. “I apologize for my friend,” he said, his voice clipped. If someone can give us the information we're looking for, we'll leave immediately.”

The big man sighed. “What's his name?” he said. “This man you're after?”

“Luke,” I said quickly. “Or Lucian, maybe.”

The man looked over at his companion, who, in all the commotion, had not even set down his drink.. “You know him?”

The other man took a sip of whatever was in his cup and shrugged. “Could be,” he muttered. “What's he look like?”

I bit my lip. “Tall, black hair, beard, blue-grey eyes. . .” Would that be enough to go on? I searched but couldn't thin of anything else to say.

“Garroway?” asked the woman with the scar.

“Yes!” I said, my heart racing. “Do you know him?”

“We've met,” she said coolly. “What do you want with him?”

“I just want to know if he's okay,” I said, biting my lip. “I need his help.”

“I?” the woman asked.

“We,” Alec said firmly. “Do you know where he is?”

“No,” she said. “But lone wolves tend to run to the pack when they get into trouble. I'd start there.”

“Thank you,” said Alec. “We'll go now.”

I let out a breath of relief.

As we toward the door, the big man called out, “Hey!”

Alec looked back at him.

“Andre's got a temper,” the big man said. “If I were you, shadowhunter, I'd watch my back.”

“I will,” said Alec. “And you watch yours; the Filii is dangerous.”

Then we left before anything else could go wrong.

It didn't feel any different as I stepped back out into the street, but when I glanced behind me, the bar was gone and the rundown Blockbuster was back. I peered intently at the windows but couldn't see any hint of the bar or the people inside.

“What the hell was that?” Alec growled, making me turn around.

“You told me not to say anything; I didn't,” Jace muttered, sliding his knife back into its sheath.

“I told you I didn't want a fight,” Alec protested.

Jace shrugged. “We got what we wanted,” he said. “Why does it matter?”

Alec's mouth worked, but all he said was, “Let's go.”

“Wait,” I said. “Go where?”

“The New York City wolf pack has a building not far from here,” Alec said. “If Luke's not there, they might know where he is.”

“So all that stuff about 'lone wolves' wasn't metaphorical?” Simon asked. He glanced at me uncertainly.

I shrugged. It sounded ridiculous but it couldn't be any harder to swallow than demons or demon hunters.

“Okay,” Simon said.

I suppressed a groan as Isabelle handed me m helmet.

She chuckled. “Relax,” she said. “Its not far.”

“You can come with me if you want,” Jace said.

I glared at him. “How would that be an improvement?”

He shrugged, kicking a leg over his bike. “You'd quit complaining about Isabelle’s driving,” he replied, smirking.

I rolled my eyes and climbed determinedly onto Isabelle’s bike, wrapping my arms tightly around her.

Fortunately for me, Isabelle hadn't been exaggerating when she said our next destination was nearby. At the speeds she drove, we got there in under ten minutes. Which was no doubt good for my sanity. Given what I'd seen of Isabelle's cat-like reflexes, I believed her when she said we wouldn't crash, but knowing intellectually that I was safe was a far cry from feeling safe when large metal death machines bearing down on me from all directions.

Isabelle seemed to find my perfectly justified concern endlessly amusing. She was cackling uncontrollably by the time we came to a stop in front of a disreputable looking apartment building. I did my best to ignore her and focus my attention on the fact that we were one step closer to finding Luke.

“What's so funny Jace asked as he pulled up beside us.

“Just Clary,” Isabelle said. “If she wasn't so busy pressing her imaginary break, I'm pretty sure I'd be getting a lecture on why we don't run red lights

I turned my back on her indignantly and walked over to Alec and Simon on shaky legs.”Is this another glamour?” I asked, looking up at the stone, grey face of the building.

Alec shook his head. “Only the faeries use them,” he said. “This is just an apartment building.”

“Full of werewolves?” I asked dubiously.

“Maybe not full,” he said, “but yes.” He turned to Jace. “And you,” he growled. “Behave, cause this time I’m not stepping in to help.”

Jace gave a reluctant nod of acquiescence.

“And Simon,” Alec went on, “leave the talking to me.”

“I'm not the one who screwed things up back there,” Simon pointed out. “I'm just saying, they answered my questions.”

“None the less,” Alec said grimly. “I'd rather not have any surprises – especially in the middle of a den of wolves.”

Simon shrugged. “I'll shut up,” he agreed.

Alec glanced from Simon, to Jace, to Isabelle, to me, an expression of underwhelming confidence on his face. Without another word, he turned and walked inside.

The main floor of the apartment building seemed to have been hollowed out into a king of ramshackle hang-out. The remnants of first floor apartments were visible, here and there, like the bones of a dead animal, picked clean by scavengers. A random assortment of second-hand furniture was scattered through the wide hall. If there was some system determining what went where, I couldn't figure it out. Most of the seats were unoccupied but there were at least three people visible from the door.

They reacted immediately to the sudden presence of strangers in their home. The closest two advanced toward us, wary and aggressive. Neither said anything, but, under the weight of their gaze, it was suddenly harder to force my way any further into the room.

“My name's Alec Lightwood,” said Alec, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

The two men only watched him silently.

“Perhaps we can help each other,” Alec went on, getting the same, blank response.

I felt my heartbeat pounding in my ears, y breath coming faster. It looked like Jace's presence was unnecessary; things were going to hell all on their own.

“Is there anyone who will speak with us?” Alec asked, raising his voice and looking around the room.

People – werewolves – had been slowly filtering into the room so that now I could feel more than fifteen pairs of eyes on me, coming from all sides. Ne of them took Alec up on his offer.

The silence stretched tighter and tighter until, finally, one of the two standing in front of us said, “The alpha will speak to you. Or not. Then you will leave.”

I let out a slow breath, glancing nervously at Simon. He shrugged helplessly. Isabelle, standing close behind me, squeezed my should reassuringly.

After a moment, the third wolf, who had scampered off when we entered, returned. Behind her was a stocky Hispanic woman with streaks of grey in her dark hair. There was power written in her face, in the way she walked, and the other wolves lowered their eyes submissively as she passed.

I bit my lip. This was who we were waiting for.

She came to a halt in front of us and though she was barely taller than I was, she seemed to tower menacingly over Alec. She examined us with unreadable brown eyes and finally said, “Speak.”

“My name is Alec Lightwood,” Alec began again.

She cut him off. “I know who you are,” she said coolly. “Why are you here, on pack land?”

Alec didn't miss a beat. “We came to warn you about the Filii Umbrae.”

“We are well aware,” said the alpha before he could elaborate. “You're warning comes rather late.”

There was a brief, fragile silence, then Alec said, “I apologize. We only recently became aware ourselves.”

“I'm sure you wasted no time in informing us,” the alpha replied evenly. Her expression was utterly blank, pitiless, but the intensity in her eyes made me flinch.

Alec, braver than I would have been under the circumstances, carried on, apparently unphased. “There was an attack earlier today: a man – a wolf – named Luke Garroway.”

The woman didn't answer, only stared back, unblinking.

I glanced around the room, feeling the growing tension on all sides. Isabelle, standing only a few inches from me, was balanced on the balls of her feet, ready to move. Jace was standing unnaturally still, his lips pressed together in a thin line, with his hand resting easily against the hilt of his knife.

I took a deep breath, trying to mimic Simon's air of calm but I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to go horribly wrong.

“We had hoped that you could help us find him,” Alec said. His voice was calm but I could see that his right arms was tensed to draw his pistol, should the need arise.

“I wouldn't be doing him any favours, handing him over to you,” the alpha told him.

“We want to help him,” Alec said.

I could feel the ring of wolves pressing in around us.

“He doesn't need your help,” the woman replied. Her face was an expressionless mask, but her voice was ice. “We take care of our own.”

“He's a friend,” Alec pressed. “Let us speak with him -”

“You have said what you came to say and you have hear my reply,” the alpha said. “Now leave. You're no longer welcome here.” She barely raised her voice but her words rang in my ears like a gunshot.

Alec lowered his voice. “Its time to leave,” he muttered, taking a step back.

I didn't want to leave – well, I desperately wanted to leave, just not before finding Luke – but Alec's retreating feet forced me to move back if I didn't want to be stepped on. Alec had said no surprises and I knew I ought to do what he said, but I couldn't help thinking that if we left no, that was it; we could kiss our chances of finding Luke – and my mom, too – goodbye. I stopped where I was, staring nervously at the alpha.

Even as I opened my mouth to speak, another voice, a strong baritone, rang out through the room. “Maia.”

A moment ago, the room had been tense. Now the silence was so complete I wasn't sure if an one was even breathing – I wasn't.

“Five kids – one of them's a mundane for Christ's sake! I think they're harmless.”

My eyes swept across the crowd of people, trying to find the speaker. At last, they settled on a familiar face and my heart leapt.

Luke.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a little late! I've been crazy busy with final exams and assignments over the past week, but here it is.

I wanted to call out to him but these people seemed a little jumpy and I figured it was best to avoid any sudden, loud noises.

“Watch yourself, Luke,” said the Alpha, her quiet voice cutting through the room like a knife. “You come dangerously close to a challenge.”

He started making his way toward us through the crowd. “Not a challenge,” he said, lowering his eyes. “Only council.”

As he came out from behind the ring of wolves, I saw that his arm was in a sling, wrapped tightly against his body. He walked stiffly, like every small movement hurt. He'd survived the run in with Lydia and company but it had come at a high cost.

“I offered you my protection,” Maia told him. “But I will not endanger the pack for your sake.”

Luke nodded. “Then I will go with them.”

“You're in no condition to leave,” said Maia sharply.

“You must protect the pack,” Luke agreed. “But I am not pack.” He walked past her towards the five of us, standing by the doors. As he drew closer, his lips drew up in a small smile and he squeezed my shoulder with his good hand.

Maia watched him narrowly for a long moment, then said, “If you betray us, I'll kill you.”

Luke nodded. “I know,” he said, and without another word, he led us outside.

By then, the sun had sunk low on the horizon. The cool evening air made a pleasant change from the strained atmosphere inside the apartment building and I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me.

I felt a hand on my arm, then Luke drew me into a lopsided bear hug, his injured arm pressing awkwardly against my collarbone.

I wanted to lean into him and let him make everything better. But you needed to trust someone for that and I felt like I hardly knew Luke at all. I pushed him away, taking a few steps back.

He let me go, a considering look on his face. “You shouldn't have come looking for me,” he said. “But I'm glad to see you.”

“I need to find my mom,” I told him, my throat tight. “I need information and you're the only one who can give it to me.”

He frowned at me but didn't answer right away. “Hello, Simon,” he said after a moment. “What're you doing here?”

“Just tagging along,” Simon replied. “You don't look so hot.”

Luke nodded. “I've been better,” he admitted.

“We have to talk to you about Rhiannon,” Alec said.

Luke looked at him sharply, then glanced over at me.

“We did our research,” I told him. “Found out some stuff about mom, the Filii – you.”

He looked back at the apartment building and sighed. “I didn't think it'd bother you that much,” he said. “You seemed to take the shadowhunter thing just fine; I didn't figure this would be any different.”

I squinted at him, at a loss. Then, finally comprehending what he meant, I blinked. “You think I care that you're a werewolf?” I snapped. “Those are your bullshit prejudices, not mine. I don't give a fuck about that. But you've killed people, Luke! You're a war criminal! How did you expect me to feel?”

Luke staggered back a step, a look of shock on his face. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“You were associated with the Filii Umbrae,” Alec said softly. “We found several arrest warrants for crimes against the people.”

Luke frowned, turning to me unhappily. After a long moment, he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Shit,” he muttered to no one in particular. Then he looked up. “Clary, I can explain.”

My stomach twisted. Those weren't the words I'd hoped to hear. “Am I wrong?” I asked, speaking quietly to hide the quaver in my voice.

Luke grimaced. “Not . . . entirely.”

I looked away, my throat tight.

“I was part of the Filii,” he said. “Before it became . . . what it is now.”

“You mean back when it was only a crackpot fringe group?” Jace muttered. “What a relief.”

Luke gave him an odd look. “I never wanted a war,” he said tiredly. “That was all Jo. Manipulative bastard could convince you to hand over your own soul and think you were getting the better part of the deal.”

“That's not good enough,” I told him through my teeth.

Luke sighed. “I told you, the Filii weren't hurting anyone when I joined them -” He fixed his eyes on me “- when your mother and Josiah joined. When things started getting out of hand, your mom and I started talking about leaving. But she was afraid of what Josiah might do to her if she did.”

I swallowed. My mother had been running for this man all my life. I didn't want to think what could have scared her badly enough to stay with him.

“Then I got bit,” Luke went on, “turned, and the choice suddenly got a whole lot easier to make.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “I should have taken her with me, but I didn't . . .” He didn't seem to be talking to us any more. He was staring into space, remembering. “I guess it took her another year or so to get herself out. Maybe she wouldn't have come, even if I'd asked. She wasn't ready. She needed a reason – needed you.”

I opened my mouth but I couldn't make any words come out. It was a lot to take in.

He met my eyes evenly. “I never killed anyone – certainly never wanted to kill anyone, except, maybe, Josiah. If I had, maybe we could have avoided all of this.”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. Finally, I just said, “Good.”

“That was very touching and all,” Jace muttered, “but maybe we could get to the point – you know, the reason we came here in the first place?”

I would have glared at him but I didn't have the energy.

“We hoped you'd be able to answer our questions,” Alec said.

“Then you're still looking for Jocelyn?” Luke replied.

“I told you I wouldn't leave her behind,” I reminded him.

He nodded slowly. “Ask your questions,” he said. “I'll help if I can. But not here – not when there are people after us.”

I nodded. “He's right,” I said. “It's not safe.”

“Especially after sunset.”

The voice, coming from across the street, took us all by surprise. Jace and Isabelle went for their weapons and Simon took a startled step back. I turned my head sharply to see Andre, the yellow-eyed vampire from the bar, leaning against the dark wall of the building across the way.

Luke shook his head. “It's been, what, eight hours since I saw you last?” he muttered. “How'd you get tangled up with a vampire?”

“We had to go looking for you,” Jace snapped. “It's not like you left a note.”

“Jace threw a knife at his head,” Simon clarified.

Luke sighed. “What do you want?” he asked, raising his voice.

Alec, the muzzle of his gun levelled steadily at Andre's head, flicked his eyes towards Luke. I got the impression he wasn't entirely sold on Luke taking charge, but he didn't say anything.

“You picked up a stray,” Andre said, chuckling. Then he sobered. “Hurry along, wolf. I don't have a problem with you – yet. And you don't look like you're up for a fight.”

I didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. I stepped to the side, putting myself squarely between Luke and Andre. “We don't want a fight,” I told him sharply.

Andre glanced at Jace. “He does,” he replied.

“He's an impulsive adrenaline junkie,” I snapped. “He always wants a fight. But we've got shit to do, so tell us what you want and let's get this over with.”

He turned to me and cocked his head. “Compensation.”

“You already got your damn apology,” Jace sneered.

“You said the words,” Andre replied. “But I’m not a faerie and neither are you. Words don't mean shit.”

“He's sorry,” I snapped. “We're all sorry. Can we go now?”

He shrugged. “I've gotta have a chat with the blond one,” he said. “The rest of you can go if you want.”

“We're not going anywhere without him,” Isabelle told him firmly. “If you want him, you have to go through all of us.”

Jace shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye, his face impossible to read.

Andre grinned. “Okay,” he said pushing himself away from the wall. As he did, the shadows around him seemed to shift, congealing into three dark shapes. He'd brought company.

My heart raced as I scrambled for my gun, still nestled in its holster. I should have drawn when Alec did, but I wasn't in the habit of carrying a firearm. My first instinct when things got sticky was to run.

The vampires charged towards us, faster than I would have thought possible. Alec squeezed the trigger and shot the nearest vampire twice in the head; it barely slowed. Another vampire rounded on Jace while the female came barrelling towards me.

I didn't even have time to bring my gun up before she collided into me with all the force of a freight train. I flew back into Simon and all three of us went down in a tangle of limbs.

Simon's body cushioned the fall but my head cracked sharply against the pavement. Dazed, I brought my hands up to try and fight off the vampire on top of me, but even at my best, I wasn't a match for her. Simon was caught between me and the ground, unable to get away or fight back and the nine-millimetre had been knocked from my and when I fell.

With a desperate burst of energy, I rolled sideways, taking the vampire with me, getting her away from Simon.

The vampire caught herself before I did and her icy fingers wrapped around my shoulder, her fingernails biting deep into my skin. She snarled viciously at me, showing of rows of sharp teeth, but before she could do anything with them, a strong hand snagged in her hair, yanking her up.

I found myself gasping for air as Luke strained with his good arm to pull the vampire away from me. She finally loosened her grip on me, only to twist and lunge for Luke's throat.

He staggered at the sudden impact. Then the vampire buried her teeth into the flesh above his injured shoulder and Luke's knees buckled. With a stifled cry, he tumbled to the ground, the vampire still clinging to him like a leech.

I reached frantically for my gun, my head still spinning, but Luke and the vampire were too close together and I didn't trust my aim enough to risk it. With a growl, I climbed to my feet and ran towards Luke, trying to blink away the sudden grey fog that clouded my vision. When I could see again, I focused on the vampire and kicked her in the side. She didn't seem to notice so I kicked her again, harder, then again and again until I managed to dislodge her from Luke's neck.

He tried to scramble away from her, a mess of blood staining the collar of his shirt, but it wasn't enough.

The vampire coiled to spring but before she could, a gunshot rang out and her head snapped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alec coming towards her, his gun point squarely at her head.

There was a long scratch running along the left side of his face, just missing his eye, but it didn't seem to have affected his aim. He fired again, catching the vampire just below her jaw and knocking her back. Not wanting to waste any time, I draped Luke's arm over my shoulder and half-dragged, half-carried him away from the fighting.

I saw Isabelle crouched over the body of another vampire, her little knife glinting red. Then her eyes fixed on Alec and the vampire, who was still advancing despite the steady stream of gunfire. Isabelle shot do her feet and sprang at the vampire's blindside.

I heard a noise beside me and turned to see Simon, still struggling to his feet, and a vampire looming over him. “Look out!” I yelled, but it was too late for him to do anything.

I dropped Luke's arm and ran towards Simon but Alec got there first. He fired twice, and when the gun clicked empty, he launched himself at the vampire, driving his heel into the thing's chest, sending him flying back several yards.

“Well that was very manly and heroic,” Simon muttered dazedly as Alec helped him to his feet.

“Get back with Luke and Clary,” Alec ordered, reloading his gun with quick, sure fingers.

The vampire he'd rescued Simon from was already rounding for another attack. Isabelle's vampire, seemingly recovered from the many gunshots to the head, was still putting up a good fight.

“Why won't they stay down?” Simon breathed, taking a few steps back from Alec.

“They heal too quickly,” Alec said, “And Isabelle's got the only silver knife.” He took up a firing stance to hold off the vampire until Isabelle could finish it off.

“Are you okay?” I asked Simon, pulling him back to where Luke was standing. He'd lost his glasses somewhere in all the fighting; it made him look vulnerable somehow.

He gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he said, “I'm fine.”

I glanced over at Isabelle and her vampire just in time to see Isabelle leap onto its neck and bury her knife in its throat. She sprang free in an instant and catapulted herself towards Alec.

But there had been four vampires. Isabelle had killed two and Alec was still fighting the third – where was Andre? Or Jace for that matter?

I frowned, my eyes scanning the dark street. I caught sight of them some distance away. Jace seemed unhurt, so far, landing quick strikes on his opponent only to dance nimbly out of reach of any counterattack. But even I could see he was flagging. Alec and Isabelle would probably finish off their vampire in a minute or so, but I wasn't sure Jace had that kind of time.

I remembered my gun, the metal cool and smooth in my hand, and I started towards Jace determinedly.

His knife bit into Andre's shoulder. The vampire snarled and twisted, tearing the knife from Jace's grip.

I stopped where I was and raised my gun, bracing myself. Gritting my teeth, I fixed my aim on Andre's head.

Unarmed, now, Jace was desperately trying to dodge Andre's attacks. Then his foot caught on the curb and he stumbled backward as Andre bore down on him.

I fired. The bullet hit Andre in the temple, knocking him back a step.

He shook himself and fixed his yellow eyes on me.

I fired again, and kept firing, driving him back, until the clip was empty.

Jace got to his feet and shot me a look, his pale eyes impossible to read.

As Andre rounded to attack again, something glinted through the darkness – Isabelle's knife – and Jace looked away from me at the last second, snatching it out of the air. Then, he turned in one smooth motion and drove it into the side of Andre's neck.

I lowered the gun with shaking hands and swallowed. Turning to look behind me, I saw Luke and Simon huddled together, looking safe, if a little worse for wear. Simon still hadn't recovered his glasses and Luke looked ashen, cradling his inured shoulder against his chest. Alec and Isabelle were standing near them, keeping a wary eye on the bodies of the fallen vampires.

“Are they dead?” I asked.

Alec shook his head. “These things survive almost anything so long as it doesn't destroy the heart.”

I stiffened, my breathing ragged. “So you stabbed them in the neck because . . .”

“There's an inch or so of bone protecting the heart,” Jace growled, coming up behind me. “Isabelle's knife isn't even two inches long.”

I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. He tossed Isabelle's knife easily back to her, having retrieved his own from Andre's shoulder.

“And I'd rather not start a war with the vampire is the middle of the accords,” Alec added coolly. “I suspect they'll be fine in an hour or two – maybe more given the blood loss.”

“We need to be gone before then,” Isabelle said, wiping her knife on the hem of her shirt before putting it away.

I heard footsteps a few yards away and looked up sharply, but it was only one of the wolves, stepping out of the apartment for a smoke. He took in the scene without any apparent surprise, then simply shrugged and lit a cigarette.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” I snapped. “Some help would have been nice.”

“It's not their fight,” Luke cut in, his voice strained.

I grimaced. I didn't like any of this. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“I'll be fine,” Luke replied, sounding less than convincing.

“You need to tell us what you know” Alec said.

“I will,” Luke agreed. “But not here; it's not safe.”

“Agreed.”

“We can discuss everything back at Blackstone,” Luke went on. At Alec's surprised expression, he added, “I'm retired, not dead. I keep tabs on these things.”

“Fine,” Alec said. “Jace will take you.”

It was hard to say who looked less thrilled by that suggestion.

“I'd rather not,” Luke said thinly. “I'll meet you there.”

Alec didn't look happy about that but Luke didn't seem interested in getting his permission.

“Clary,” he continued, “I know this is a lot to take. I promise I'll explain everything soon.”

I nodded, my mouth dry.

Then, without another word, Luke turned and walked away, moving stiffly. I suspected he was hurt worse than he was letting on, but if he' said he'd be okay, I had to trust that he would be.

“We should go,” Isabelle said.

I winced, looking back at the parked bikes.

“So, we're just going to leave these guys here?” Simon asked.

Alec nodded. “It's best to keep your distance,” he said. “Even with a silver blade, these things heal unbelievably fast.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, giving the bodies a wide berth as he followed Alec to the motorcycles.

I was sufficiently anxious to leave that I almost didn't mind the idea of riding out with Isabelle. As we mounted up, a car pulled onto the street and stopped beside us, just missing one of the fallen vampires. The window rolled down and Lydia poked her had out.

“I heard all the commotion," she said her lips twisting. “It's not safe for young persons like yourselves to be out after dark among such unsavoury company.” Her eyes flicked toward the werewolf outside the apartment building who abruptly turned and went inside.

My heart raced as I watched Lydia, waiting for some attack, but none came.

After a moment she snorted. “You're adorable,” she said. “Relax. I don't like killing kids.”

I looked over at Jace, wondering if his small store of self restraint was about to run out.

But he was utterly still and silent. He was staring at Lydia as if he'd forgotten the rest of us were even there. And there was something about his expression that was just . . . wrong.

“Since it seems you finally noticed we're here, we figured it was time to say hello,” she said. “We're practically family after all – blood of my blood and all that.”

I frowned. It seems a little counter-intuitive to come and confront us out in the open like this. As soon as they started drawing attention to themselves, the shadowhunters would send people in to squash them. . . .

Only they didn't know. No one knew – except us, and there was no one we could all for help until the Accords were over. Which wouldn't be for weeks, at least.

No wonder she was so cocky. She didn't see us as a threat – frankly, I couldn't blame her.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, his words clipped. No doubt he had reached the same conclusion I had.

“To deliver a warning,” she said. “And listen up cause you'll only get one.”

Silence.

“Stay out of our way, she said, her words turning to ice. “Maybe I don't want to kill you, but I’ll do it in a heartbeat if have to.”

Her eyes met mine for a moment, cold and predatory, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Did she know? Had she recognized me? I wanted to tear my eyes away but I was terrified that it would only confirm any suspicions she had.

After a moment, her gaze slid back to Alec. “Go home,” she ordered. “Stay there. If I see you again, I’ll kill every last one of you.”

She didn't wait for a response before rolling up her window and pulling away. I let out a slow breath as I watched her go, but just as I was beginning to think the danger had passed, Jace's bike roared to life beside me and the tires screeched angrily against the pavement as he went racing after the retreating car.

“Jace!” Alec yelled, a frantic note in his voice that I'd never heard from him before.

For a moment, I thought he was going to go chasing after him but he only stood there, his hands twitching helplessly at his sides. “'Damn it, Jace,” he breathed.

Finally he looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. “It's time to go,” he said quietly. “It's not safe here.”

“I looked at him blankly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Clearly I was missing something. I couldn't imagine what Jace had been thinking – he was an adrenaline junkie, sure, but not suicidal! – but Alec didn't even look surprised, only upset.

I desperately wanted to ask what was going on but this wasn't the time. Reluctantly, I joined Isabelle on her bike.


	11. Chapter 11

The ride back to Blackstone was no less terrifying and reckless than the last two, but it felt heavier somehow. Isabelle had lost her lighthearted cheer and the farther we got from the dark street, the more the strange reality that Jace was gone began to seep into my skin.

The mood was sombre as we pulled back into the garage. I was shaking when I got off Isabelle’s bike – either from the fight with the vampires, whatever had happened with Lydia and Jace, the ride home with Isabelle, or some combination of all three. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and turned to Alec, hoping for some explanation.

He was silent, a stony expression on his face. Then, without any warning, he threw his helmet against the opposite wall. It crashed against the concrete and shattered into several pieces, making me jump.

I stared at the mark it had left on the wall, stunned, then slowly turned back to Alec.

He didn't look at me, or any one else. The silence stretch out for a long moment, then, wordlessly, he crossed the room and started picking up the pieces of the destroyed helmet.

“Come on,” Isabelle said softly, putting a hand on my arm.

Still shaken, I nodded and followed her out, with Simon close behind.

She took us to the kitchen and hovered gingerly by the table. The atmosphere was very different from what it had been that morning.

“So,” Simon said, cutting through the silence, “someone's got to say it: What the hell just happened?”

“Alec's just upset,” Isabelle replied, her arms folded unhappily over her chest.

“Yeah, I got that,” Simon told her. “I meant the asshat with the blonde hair.”

“Don't call him that,” Isabelle snapped.

“Okay,” Simon muttered. “Sorry.”

She looked away, not saying anything.

I bit my lip. “I just don't understand,” I muttered. “What would possess him to do that?”

“Ask Alec,” she replied, not looking up.

“I'd love to,” Simon said slowly, “only he doesn't really seem to be in a talking mood right now.”

“Isabelle, what's going on?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she told me sharply. Then she sighed. “I know he has . . . issues with the Filii – personal stuff – but he doesn't like to talk to me about that.”

“What do you mean 'issues?'” I said, frowning.

“It's personal,” she snapped.

“I think it stopped being personal when he decided to go all vigilante back there,” Simon said softly.

“It has something to do with Lydia,” I said, thinking aloud. “Lydia, not just the Filii. That's why he freaked out when he saw her at Luke's place too. He recognized her.”

Isabelle's eyes widened a little and she shook her head. “No,” she breathed, then, “maybe . . .” She let her arms fall to her sides, then crossed them again helplessly. “Damn it.”

“So you really don't know what's going on?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I don't know any of the details,” she muttered. “I told you, he doesn't talk to me about that stuff.”

“So he has some weird connection with this terrorist group and you didn't think that bore looking into?” Simon asked, an unfamiliar note of strain in his voice. “I guess you just didn't want to pry cause it's personal.”

Isabelle glared at him.

“Does he do this a lot?” he pressed. “Just runs off with no warning and you figure you should just leave him to it?”

“Do you think I wanted to leave him there?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Of course I wanted to go after him! But I didn't. Because Alec didn't. Because we had you, and he was being responsible -” She cut herself off abruptly, glancing over my shoulder.

I turned to see Alec standing in the doorway, his features once again moulded into a calm, practised expression.

“Alec,” I said. “Hi.”

“I'm going to find Jace,” he said quietly. “You wait here. Isabelle will stay and keep you safe-”

“The hell she will,” Isabelle interrupted, her voice as cold and hard as ice. “Don't you dare run off and leave me where I can't do anything. I'm going with you.”

Simon and I exchanged uneasy glances.

“It's not safe,” Alec said, sounding tired.

“I know that,” Isabelle snapped. “In what way does you going alone make that better?”

“I'm responsible for you,” Alec argued. “All of you.”

“No, you're not,” Isabelle told him sharply. “You don't have to protect everyone, Alec. It's not your job!”

“Someone has to,” he said, his voice hard.

“I can take care of myself,” she snapped. “Stop acting like I’m some incompetent teenager! Did I or did I not just save all your asses back there?”

“And what about them?” Alec pressed, gesturing to me and Simon. “It's not just you I'm worried about.”

“They're fine here!” she yelled. “They don't need a damn babysitter!”

“Hey!” I said, stepping in between them. “Let's take some deep breaths, okay? I know you want Jace back – I do too!” I was surprised to realize how much I meant it. As angry as he made me, it felt wrong without him there, incomplete.

I took a breath, steadying myself. “This isn't helping anyone, and chasing after him now won't do any good either. He's long gone by now and we need you here.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Isabelle asked stiffly.

“The Filii have Jace. They almost certainly have my mom.” I swallowed. “That means nothing's changed. We need to talk to Luke, track down the Filii, and then we can get both of them back safely.”

“We can't just leave him with those people!” Isabelle argued.

“We're going to get him back,” I snapped. “But this is the best way to do it. We have to wait for Luke.”

Alec's mouth worked, and Isabelle watched him tensely, waiting for his decision.

“Fine,” he said at last. “We'll wait for Luke.” The words were like ground glass coming from his mouth.

Isabelle barely reacted, only a slight parting of her lips before looking away, but she seemed smaller. The defiant energy had gone out of her, leaving her broken, somehow.

“I need a shower,” Alec growled, and he turned to leave, his shoulders tense.

I remembered him throwing the helmet in the garage and forced myself to look away. But it seemed that the breach in his superhuman self control was sealed tightly once again.

It was quiet in the kitchen for a few minutes. “You must be starved,” Isabelle said at last, trying – and failing – to inject a note of cheer into her words.

It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me and I tried to think of the last time I'd eaten – not since that morning. For some reason, I wasn't feeling all that hungry.

“I think we have some frozen pizza,” she went on, not waiting for a reply. “I'll throw it in the oven.” She swallowed and turned away to start rummaging through the freezer.

The sound of her digging through microwavable dinners grated at my nerves and I ran a hand through my hair. It was her way of handling things, I knew, but it felt wrong to stay here while she did – almost invasive. I shot a look at Simon and, by some unspoken agreement, we moved to the study to give her some space.

I paused in the doorway, unsure of what to say. I regarded Simon thoughtfully for a moment. Neglecting the chairs around the crowded desk, he sat on the floor where he was, leaning tiredly against the wall. After a beat I went and sat down beside him.

He was examining his glasses silently. He'd must have recovered them after the fight but they hadn't escaped entirely unscathed. One of the lenses was hopelessly clouded with cracks and scratches. He put the glasses on and turned to look at me, his lips twisting up at the corners. “It's okay,” he said, covering the bad side with one hand. “You only really need one eye anyway.”

I couldn't quite match his smirk. “Sorry,” I muttered.

He shrugged. “They're just glasses, Clay,” he said, taking them off again and regarding them with a resigned expression. “I have contacts at home.”

I pursed my lips unhappily. “That's not what I meant,” I said quietly.

He turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow in question.

I met his mild dark eyes and sighed. “I was selfish,” I said. “When I called you earlier – when I dragged you into all this crap. . . .”

He shook his head firmly. “No,” he said. “Friends help each other. I'm glad you called.”

I gave him a weak smile. “I'm glad too,” I told him, “but it was selfish. I'm sorry.”

He didn't say anything but he put his arm around me and I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder.

There was a short silence before Simon said, “She'll be okay. And the blond jerk. You'll get them back.”

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. It didn't sound convincing.

He pulled me tighter against him.

“So,” he said, after a short pause. “Demon hunters . . . who knew?”

“Smooth,” I muttered.

“I thought so.”

“You're taking all this pretty well,” I said.

He shrugged. “The beer helped, I think.” The silence stretched out for a moment, then he said, “Besides, it's not all bad.”

“You've been watching too much Buffy,” I told him.

“There's no such thing as 'too much Buffy,'” he corrected. “But I wasn't talking about the vampires.”

“Oh?” I said, falling into the routine of casual banter, even if my heart wasn't really in it.

“I'm enjoying the company,” Simon explained.

I snorted. “I can always count on you to focus on what's important,” I muttered.

“I'm not sold on Jace,” he went on, “'cause, let's be honest, he's probably one of the most unpleasant people I’ve met. But Isabelle's very charming – you know I like brunettes. And we were having a very nice time at the bar until she left with another guy.”

“Simon, she's seventeen,” I pointed out.

He shrugged. “I don't think it would have gotten that far,” he said. “But what do you think of Alec?”

I felt my lips creep into a smile at the almost breathless way he said the name. “I think,” I said slowly, “that what I think is not as important as what you think.”

“Quit being a pain,” he ordered. “Just answer the question.”

I made a face. “I don't know . . .” I said. “He's fine – he seems very responsible. . . .”

Simon sighed. “You're no help,” he told me.

“You asked.”

“What's his situation?” he pressed.

It was my turn to sigh. “Simon, I met the guy two days ago; he didn't fill me in on his whole life's story,” I muttered. “If you want to know if he's single, ask him yourself.”

He shook his head. “After everything I've done for you,” he said sadly. “You'd just abandon me. . .”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, cut it out,” I told him. “Just ask – or ask Isabelle, if you want.”

“Ask Isabelle what?”

The sudden voice from the door made me jump and I looked up to see Alec, his hair still damp. How'd he just show up like that? Wasn't he supposed to be in the shower?

I glanced at Simon, who sighed.

He looked up at Alec and said, “Are you single?”

Simple. Straightforward. But then, it wasn't like it was going to make the situation more awkward.

Alec frowned down at me and Simon, his eyes narrowing. Finally he just said, “I'm seeing someone.”

“Okay,” Simon said.

Alec regarded us quizzically, but didn't press the issue. “Where's Isabelle?” he asked.

“She's in the kitchen,” I told him.

He frowned. “I didn't see her.”

I looked at Simon, who only shrugged.

Then the sound of the front door slamming sent us both scrambling to our feet. Without a word, Alec started towards the front room, reaching for his gun, and Simon and I went chasing after him.


	12. Chapter 12

My heart was racing but when I saw the figure standing by the door, I slumped in relief.

“Luke,” I said, my throat tight.

Alec didn't look quite as happy to see him as I was. “How did you get in?” he asked. “The door was locked.”

“I have a key,” Luke replied. Then, by way of explanation, “Maryse owes me a favour.”

Alec stiffened. “You know my mother.” It wasn't a question.

Luke nodded. “A long time ago. We went to school together before she went off on her apprenticeship.”

Anxious to get down to business, I said, “I'll find Isabelle.”

As Alec had said, she wasn't in the kitchen so I ended up wandering reluctantly through the maze of doors and passages of the first floor. I found her in the third corridor I checked.

She was leaning against the wall, her arms folded in front of her chest, looking across the hall at a closed door – Jace's I guessed. She glanced up as I approached, the looked back at the door.

“I don't know how to fix this,” she said finally, her voice quiet.

“We'll get him back,” I told her.

She was silent for a moment, then she said, “I grew up with him. He's lived with us for most of my life.” She pursed her lips. “He should be here, and I don't know . . .”

“We'll find him, I said. Hesitantly, I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

Se looked down and shook her head but she didn't pull away.

“Luke's here,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” Isabelle muttered. “I'm coming.”

She pushed off from the wall, turning her back on the closed door, and walked past me to the front room.

My stomach twisted as I watched her go, and I glanced back nervously at the door. I swallowed, fighting down a sudden wave of nausea. Shaking myself, I hurried after Isabelle.

I found Luke and Simon sitting on the couch where I'd woken up after Jace kidnapped me. Alec was occupying the chair opposite them while Isabelle hovered nearby, too anxious to sit down.

Luke looked up as I came in, and frowned. “You're bleeding,” he said.

I blinked and looked down at myself, seeing bloodstains on my shirt where the vampire had clawed my shoulder. As if reminded by Luke's words, the puncture wounds began to throb.

“Oh my gosh, Clary!” Isabelle said. “I didn't even notice. I'll get the first aid kit.”

“It's fine,” I said. “If anyone needs medical attention, it's Luke.”

“Right . . .” Isabelle turned her calculating gaze on Luke but he shook his head.

“It's a dislocated shoulder and some cracked ribs,” he said. “The joint's already back in place, so there's nothing to be done about it but to take excessive amounts of painkillers, and that can wait.”

“Okay,” Isabelle said after a short pause, folding her arms over her chest.

There was a short silence, then Luke said, “We're missing someone.”

“Jace,” Isabelle murmured.

“Lydia showed up shortly after you left,” Alec said stiffly.

At Luke's concerned look, I said, “She didn't do anything, just told us to butt out. I don't think she knows who I am.”

“So what happened?”

Alec grimaced, leaning forward. “Jace has a complicated history with the Filii,” he said quietly. “He wasn't acting rationally.”

Luke turned to me for clarification.

“He went chasing after Lydia as soon as she left,” I explained. “We had to leave him behind.” I glanced nervously at Alec but he barely reacted to my words.

“Who is Lydia?” I asked. “You knew her, right? Before?”

He nodded. “She was already part of the Filii when I joined – definitely on the more radical end of things,” he said. “So of course she latched onto Jo right away, with all his talk about 'restoring order' and 'permanent revolution.'”

“She's evil,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Luke pursed his lips. “She wasn't when I first met her,” he said. “Determined. Passionate. But very misguided. It changes you, twists you up inside.”

“It?” I asked.

“The Filii. Jo. Knowing -” He cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head. “The cup probably didn't help either,” he muttered.

“What cup?” Alec asked. “What do you mean?”

“It was Jo's idea,” Luke explained. “His very own army of elite hunters. He figured, since the first shadowhunters got their power from the Mortal Cup, the same thing would work for us.”

Isabelle frowned. “But it's just an old relic,” she said. “Without the blood, it's just a two-thousand year old cup the council had locked away out of sight.”

“Just because you haven't see something work doesn't mean it doesn't,” Luke told her.

“But it's just a story,” Isabelle argued. “It's not like they could call down an angel to bleed in a cup for them.”

“They didn't want the blood of an angel,” Luke pointed out quietly.

“They used demon blood,” Alec said, sitting back.

Isabelle made a disgusted noise and looked away.

I bit my lip. “Luke, you didn't . . .”

“No,” he said. “He was a cold-blooded bastard but Josiah was smart. He knew I had my doubts and he wasn't about to put that much power in my hands.”

“What about my mom?” I asked.

He looked at me unhappily. “I don't think so,” he told me. “Not while I was there.”

Simon met my eyes evenly. “She wouldn't have done it,” he said. “You know that.”

I nodded mutely, but in the back of my mind, a nagging voice reminded me that she'd done a lot of things I never would have believed possible.

“It worked?” Alec said, his voice clipped.

Luke nodded. “Drinking from the cup let them channel more power, take on more glyphs. Lydia as one of the first.”

“So that's how she does it,” Isabelle muttered, crossing her arms firmly. “That many marks on one person should have killed her.”

“It's not without a cost,” Luke sighed. “Like I said, it changes you.”

“Wait a sec,” Simon said, thinking. “If the Filii had this magic super-soldier serum, why'd they just give up? What happened?”

“Whitehawk killed himself,” Isabelle said simply.

“Why, though?” he pressed. “He had everything going for him. If they've had this secret weapon up their sleeve this whole time, why haven't they done anything before now?”

“They don't have the cup,” Alec said.

I blinked. “What?”

“At the end of the war, w managed to recover most of the artifacts that had been stolen but they never found the cup,” he explained. “The Filii members they interrogated had no idea where it was.”

“Oh,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “Damn.”

Luke looked at me sharply and frowned.

“That's what the were looking for in my apartment,” I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

“She must have taken it with her when she left,” Isabelle said, her eyes widening.

“It wasn't her they were looking for at all,” I muttered bitterly. “They wanted the cup and she got in their way.”

“But they didn't find it,” Luke said, thinking aloud. “So they think you have it, only they don't know who you are – that's why they wanted to know who was living with Jocelyn.”

“Damn,” I said again, running a hand through my hair.

“Hold on,” Simon cut in. “Your mom's not an idiot. She had to know they'd come looking for this thing – why risk it.”

“Because she decided stopping Josiah was more important,” Alec said quietly, fixing his dark eyes on mine. “Taking the cup ended the war.”

“Yeah, and now she's paying for it,” I bit out.

“She's not the only one,” Isabelle snapped.

I lowered my eyes. “I know,” I muttered. “Sorry.”

“She never told me,” Luke murmured.

“Yeah, well, don't take it personally,” I grumbled. “She never told me a lot of things.”

“I take it you don't know where it is?”

I snorted. “I didn't even know it existed until five minutes ago,” I said. “I have no idea where it is.”

“Are you sure?” Alec asked.

“Yes, I'm sure,” I snapped. “I don't even know what it looks like.”

“But this is good,” Luke said. “It means we have a chance at getting her back.”

“The cup isn't a bargaining chip,” Alec told him sharply.

I swallowed, my stomach twisting. “He's right,” I said. “My mom risked her life and mine to keep this thing safe.”

“I know,” Luke agreed. “She'd do anything to keep it out of their hands, which means she hasn't told them where it is. And until she does, they have to keep her alive.

***

The sky was darkening in the west as Jace raced though the dark street. He kept his distance from the car ahead of him but Lydia had to know he was there.

Tension ran through every muscle. His focus was narrowing on the bright tail lights of Lydia's car. He'd followed her a long way, almost to the city limits, waiting for her to stop somewhere or get out, giving him his chance. He'd all but lost track of where they were, but Lydia had to stop sooner or later and then it wouldn't matter.

A large building loomed in the distance – an abandoned factory, maybe – and the car pulled off the main road, heading towards it. Jace wrench the bike into a sharp turn, closing some of the distance between himself and the car.

At last it pulled into a dimly lit parking lot, in front of some kind of service entrance. Jace leapt from his bike even before it had stopped moving, sending it skidding painfully across the pavement. He ran for the car as Lydia opened the door, gripping his knife tightly in his hand.

She caught his knife hand, deflecting it away from her throat, but his momentum threw him into her bearing both of them to the ground. He twisted quickly and rolled to his feet, ready to attack again, but she was faster than he was.

She wrenched his feet out from under him, slamming the heel of one hand into his stomach. He fell hard on his back, driving the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he slashed blindly at her, struggling to regain his footing.

As soon as he was standing, he lunged for her again, the knife driving down towards her collarbone. She twisted fluidly as he struck, neatly dodging the knife, and slammed a booted foot into his ribcage. Jace thought he heard ribs crack – he certainly felt it – and doubled over in pain, nearly losing his balance.

This was where Alec should have stepped in between them to back him up, or Isabelle should have appeared from Lydia's blind side. But they weren't here. Jace had left them behind.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he dodged Lydia's next kick, her foot just grazing his cheek. With a snarl he started in with the knife. He had almost timed it right. The sharp blade came within an inch of her abdomen before she caught his wrist in a vice like grip an flung him over her shoulder.

He yelled out involuntarily as the impact send sparks of pain shooting through his chest. She wrenched the knife from his hand and threw it across the parking lot. It bounced over the ground and vanished out of sight.

Frantic now, Jace struck out with his free hand, catching Lydia hard across the cheek. It stunned her enough to let him go an he scrambled away from her.

He could leave now – rationally, he knew that's what he should do. Alone, unarmed, he had no hope of winning. But he couldn't leave Lydia alive, not when he'd come so close.

He ran at her again, lashing out with his hands, his feet, striking at her in any way he could. Some of the blows hit their marks but Lydia batted most of them aside with a kind of easy speed, an expression of mild annoyance on her face.

At last, she caught his wrist in strong fingers and backhanded him solidly across the jaw. He slumped a little, dazed, and she swept his feet out from under him, bearing him to the ground.

“Idiot,” she muttered, pressing a knee down between his shoulder blades. “What did you think you were going to accomplish?”

Jace didn't answer.

She knotted a hand in his hair and wrenched his head back painfully, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I warned you.”

He growled something unintelligible.

“Fortunately for you, I'm feeling exceptionally generous at the moment,” she said, hauling him to his feet with contemptuous ease.

He tried to turn on her, struggling against her grip, but she only forced him to his knees, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

“Don't push it,” she muttered. “I'm happy to just kill you if this turns out to be more effort than it's worth.”

When he didn't answer, she simply started walking towards the building, dragging him along beside her. He finally got his feet under him when she paused at the door, not that it made much difference. After a few stilted steps, they came to a large door with an unfamiliar man standing beside it. He had nearly as many glyphs as Lydia and a sidearm at his hip.

Lydia called to him as they approached, making him look up sharply.

“What the hell?” he asked, straightening.

“He followed me home,” Lydia snapped. “Open the door.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Open the damn door.”

The man unlatched the door with obvious reluctance. “He's not going to be happy about this.”

“Yeah, well, that's my problem,” Lydia muttered. As the door slid open, she shoved Jace through with enough force to send him stumbling several steps into the dark room on the other side.

He turned in an instant and ran at the door but he was too late; it had already latched shut. With a yell, he slammed a hand against the metal. When that had no effect, he took a step back and kicked it with the heel of a combat boot. He repeated the process a few times, then snarled in frustration and resorted to beating against the cold metal with his fists.

“Oh for God's sake, stop,” came a voice from the shadows. “You'll hurt yourself.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to peer suspiciously in the direction of the voice. His eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dimness but he could just make out a silhouette in the corner. “Who the hell are you?” he snapped.

There was no answer but the figure came closer and Jace took an involuntary step back. Then the stranger came into the hazy sphere of light by the door and Jace's eyes widened.

“I know you,” he breathed, his lips drawing into a grin. “You're Rhiannon.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “I haven't gone by that name in years,” she said. “Care to tell me how you know it, since I have no idea who you are?”

“Jace,” he said. “I'm a friend of your -”

She slapped him – not hard, but it startled him enough to shut him up.

He glared at her, working his jaw angrily.

She matched his glare with a look of cold ferocity that took hi aback. Not looking away, she lifted a finger to her lips and jerked her chin at the locked door.

His dignity still stinging, Jace nodded slowly. No mention of Clary. Fine.

“We've been looking for you,” he said, his jaw tight.

“Have you, now,” she said softly, watching him with wary, grey eyes. Then she sighed, looking away.

“Try to contain your joy,” Jace sneered. He shook his head. “We're going to get you out of here.”

“How's that working out for you?”

Jace didn't answer.

“Was this part of the plan?”

He looked away. “No,” he muttered. “I... screwed up.”

“Was that Lydia I saw throwing you in here?” Rhiannon asked.

At the name, Jace stiffened, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Yeah,” said Rhiannon quietly.

After a short pause, she turned and walked to the corner, sitting tiredly and resting her elbows on her knees.

Jace watched her go, then glared at the door and kicked it again.

“Cut it out,” Rhiannon sighed. “Please.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Jace snarled, rounding on her. “Don't you want to get out of here?”

“Sure,” she replied. “But that's an industrial strength door. Beating it up isn't going to do anything but wear you out and give me a headache.”

“At least I’m doing something,” Jace growled. “They're going to kill us – you know that, right?”

After a moment, she simply said, “There are worse things.”

Jace rolled his eyes an stalked away from the door to the opposite corner. He flexed his fingers unhappily and finally shoved them in his pockets. After a long silence, he finally said, “How long have you been in here?”

She didn't look at him. “I'm not sure,” she replied. “Being alone in a dark room doesn't do wonders for your sense of time.” She paused. “How long have you been looking for me?”

“I got the call last night,” Jace said slowly. It was almost the truth, and it was really Clary she cared about anyway. “So, a day, day and a half.”

Rhiannon let out a quiet breath. “Could be worse. I managed to ditch the ones at the house but they caught up with me a few hours later and brought me straight here.”

“What did they wa-”

The sudden sound of the door's latch lifting cut him off abruptly. In an instant, the door slid open and Jace held up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light of the hallway. Squinting, he could make out Lydia in the doorway, her hands on her hips and an unhappy expression on her face.

But it was the figure beside her that caught his eye: a tall man with neatly trimmed blonde hair and a string of glyphs coiling down bare arms. His face bore an expression of mild concern but his grey eyes were cold and blank.

All things considered, Whitehawk looked pretty good for a corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that the rest of the chapters have alternating Clary and Jace POV. :)


	13. Chapter 13

When Isabelle's timer went off a few minutes later, we retreated to the kitchen for food. I wasn't especially hungry, but I had to admit I felt less shaky with a couple pieces of pizza in my belly. Luke had downed at least double the recommended dose of extra strength painkillers and was looking better – although he had a ways to go before he'd be back to normal.

The electronic clock on the microwave read eight-twenty-three, but it felt much later than that. I was grateful for the cup of strong, black coffee I clutched between cold fingers. My gun was disassembled on the table in front of me where I'd started to clean it. I'd started several times an kept losing track of what I'd done.

My whole body ached and my head was throbbing faintly. There was a large knot on the back of my scalp where my head had hit the ground when the vampire tackled me but I wasn't about to complain when Luke was sitting next to me with several broken bones and a dislocated shoulder. I could handle a little headache, even if it was making it hard to concentrate.

Alec was saying something. I blinked and looked across the room at him.

“... two targets to track down in stead of one,” he was saying.

“Jace and Jocelyn are together, assuming -” Luke cut himself off abruptly. “I doubt the Filii would bother with keeping them in separate locations. If we find one, we find the other.

“I know,” Alec said. “I was talking about the cup.”

“Forget the cup,” Luke said, his words a touch too sharp. “The damn thing's safe enough where it is. Jocelyn isn't. We should focus on getting her back.”

“But Jocelyn knows where the cup is,” said Isabelle, “and the Filii have her. That means that any second, she could tell them about the cup – for all we know, she might have told them already.”

“She hasn't,” Luke argued. “She won't.”

“But you can't know that,” Isabelle told him. “Not for sure. I agree with Alec. This changes things.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking, then found myself drifting off and forced them open again. “If we go after the cup and they haven't found it already, we could lead the Filii right to it.” I swallowed. “Besides, I don't want to leave my mom or Jace with those people a second longer than we have to.”

“None of us do,” Alec said, a sharp note in his voice. “But we don't have time. If the Filii find the Mortal Cup, there'll be all out war, and I can't let that happen. The cup has to be our priority.” He sighed. “Maybe if we had more people...”

Luke sat back stiffly. “Where exactly is everyone? Maryse is far too sensible to send away all her hunters and leave New York City in the hands of three kids.”

“It wasn't her call,” Isabelle muttered unhappily. “After her and dad left, Central put out orders for every available hunter to deploy to China.”

“What's in China?” Simon asked.

“Several thousand demons,” Isabelle told him grimly.

“What?” Luke sounded startled.

“About a week ago, a rift opened up along the southeast coast of China,” Alec explained. “Demons started pouring through in droves so we sent every hunter we could spare to help get things under control.”

“Damn,” Luke muttered. “I should have seen this coming.”

“How?” Isabelle said, frowning.

“If the Filii wanted to make a move, of course they'd start by clearing out all the serious oposition,” he replied.

She blinked. “You think the Filii is behind that?”

Luke nodded. “That's what always made them so dangerous,” he said. “They took the biggest threat shadowhunters faced and turned it into a weapon that they could aim wherever they wanted.”

I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “So, these guys have a bunch of super-powered terrorists and a demon army?” I muttered. “That's excessive.”

“They're building up to something big,” Alec said. “That's why we can't afford to let the cup fall into their hands.”

“No one's disagreeing with you,” I snapped. “We need to keep the cup safe – I get it! – but this isn't the way to do it. My mom's the only one who knows where the cup is. If you want it, we have to get her out first.”

“And where do you suggest we start,” Alec asked thinly. His dark eyes flickered to Luke for a moment. “He was our best lead and he has no idea where they are.”

“That's not entirely true,” Luke interjected.

“So where are they,” Isabelle demanded.

“I said 'not entirely',” Luke said. “I don't know where they are but I might be able to narrow it down.”

After a short silence, Alec said, “Go on.”

“They'll have a base of operations, somewhere defensible, out of the way where they won't have to deal with to many mundanes wandering past.”

“You don't think they would have co-opted one of our New York safe houses, do you?” Isabelle asked.

“Hiding right under your nose?” Luke raised an eyebrow. “I'm sure Lydia would appreciate the irony but I doubt they'd risk it.” He pursed his lips, thinking, then went on. “I don't know how many there are, but it's a safe bet there's more than the two who attacked me.”

“Good call,” I agreed. The words felt a little fuzzy.

He nodded. “They wouldn't have made a play for the cup if they didn't have the force to back it up,” he said. “Wherever they're staying, it's going to be big.”

“How big?” Alec asked.

Luke looked around. “As big as this place, at least,” he said. “It depends what they can get their hands on. But they're not looking for a long term investment; they don't like to stay in the same place to long. That means we're probably not looking for a residential building. We should stick to industrial buildings, warehouses – anything vacant that they could rent for a few weeks or just take over without too much fuss.”

“We could have figured that much out for ourselves,” Isabelle muttered. “That doesn't narrow it down that much.”

“Maybe not,” Luke allowed, “but wherever they're hiding, there'll be other signs, bodies.” He paused, then clarified, “Mainly downworlders.”

“I wouldn't know anything about that,” Alec said.

“I didn't exactly think you would,” Luke said coolly. “But someone does. Downworlders keep track of their own. You just need to know who to ask.”

“We already tried that,” Isabelle told him. “They pointed us to you.”

“Because we asked them to,” Simon pointed out. “We didn't ask about Jocelyn. Did you think they were just going to up and tell us where people had been dying lately? That's not the kind of thing that just comes up at random in mundane conversation.”

Luke nodded. “Downworlders see a lot that shadowhunters don't,” he said. “If we can find someone who's willing to talk to us, I’m sure we'll start finding answers.”

“There you go!” I said. “Luke can use his downworlder contacts – we have a lead!”

“No.” Alec shook his head. “The cup is more important.”

I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “We don't have any idea where the cup is,” I argued. “Where are we even going to look?”

“Your apartment,” he replied.

I blinked at him. “Why?” I said. “That's the one place we know it's not – the people who attacked my mom searched it from top to bottom. If there was anything there, they would have found it.”

“Not necessarily,” Alec said. “They don't know where to look.”

“And you think I do?” I muttered.

“You know the place best.”

“Besides,” Isabelle put in, “even if the cup isn't there, there might be some clue about where it is.”

I shook my head. This still struck me as a bad idea, and my stomach twisted unhappily at the idea of abandoning the search for my mother to go chasing off after some glorified dishware. I opened my mouth to argue but Alec cut me off.

“The decision's been made, Clary,” he said softly. “We'll go to your apartment and see what we find.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, almost gently, “We'll get your mother back if we can. But the cup has to come first.”

“You've said,” I muttered through my teeth.

After a tense moment, Simon said, “In case anyone wanted my input, I think is a horrible plan. I don't think you can justify killing two people just because there's a chance the Filii might find this dumb cup before you do.”

I grimaced unhappily at that thought and he offered me an apologetic look.

“I think you should listen to Luke and see what his friends have to say,” he went on, “but hey, that's just my opinion. In the mean time, I can't see.”

Alec stiffened and Simon waved a reassuring hand at him. “Relax,” he said. “It's nothing that dramatic; someone just stepped on my glasses.”

“Okay,” Isabelle said slowly.

“It's just that I have to go home and get contacts and I was wondering... what are the odds of me being attacked by some supernatural beastie on the way there? In all seriousness, to I need a bodyguard or something?”

“We shouldn't send anyone off alone,” Luke said after a moment.

“I'll take him,” Isabelle said.

“He appreciates that,” Simon murmured.

Alec looked unhappy but Isabelle shoo her head firmly. “Don't start,” she said. “You three check out the apartment. We'll be fine.”

Alec gave a brief not. “We leave in ten minutes,” he said. “Gear up.”

I suppressed another groan as I realized that meant I would have to stand up. My head spun a little as I levered myself painfully to my feet. I was exhausted, and the coffee could only do so much.

“You okay?” Simon asked.

“Peachy,” I grumbled.

“Sorry,” he said.

As he turned to leave, I said, “Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” I bit my lip. “If you hadn't come, I don't know...”

“You would have been fine,” he told me with a tired smile. “But you know I'm always there to help.”

“Thanks,” I said again, and started making my way up to my stolen room to restock on ammunition.

I let out a tired sigh as I stepped into the room and my eyes lingered lustfully on the bed against the wall. With a physical effort, I tore my gaze away from the bed and and shuffled towards the dresser where I'd left my lockbox. As I opened it, one of the scattered photos on the dresser caught my eye: Jace glaring at the camera while Isabelle posed cheerfully beside him. I picked it up gingerly, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in my chest as I regarded the scene. I hardly knew Jace, but he was as familiar to me as any of this. The house felt strange without him there.

A gentle knock at the door made me jump and I dropped the photo, turning to see Isabelle in the doorway.

“I thought you left,” I said.

“Just about,” she replied. “I wanted to help you with you glyphs first, since you don't have a stele.”

I blinked. “What glyphs?”

“Oh...” She hesitated. “It's just, Simon said there were police at your place so you need a glyph to make sure they don't see you.” Her hand subconsciously drifted to her arm.

“Right...” I said slowly.

“It'll be fine,” she assured me, lifting an odd-looking knife from her belt. “It only huts for a second. Roll up your sleeve -”

“Hold on!” I said, taking a hurried step away from her. “You're not drawing any of those things on me – I don't even know what they do!”

She opened her mouth to reply, then sighed and rifled through the drawers to find a pencil. Then she grabbed the picture I'd been looking at and flipped it over to draw something on the back, an uneven spiral with a twisted line running through it.

“The glyphs are just words, Clary,” she said. “Each one means a specific thing and works a specific way – this one just means 'hidden.'” She turned the photograph to show me.

I held up a hand. “Wait – should you be doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Drawing the symbols,” I said. “Isn't that kind of like reading the Latin aloud from a spellbook?”

She snorted. “It's fine,” she said. “It only works on people – shadowhunters. Without the blood, it's just writing.”

I frowned and looked at the lines she'd drawn. “So this will turn me invisible?”

She nodded. “But only to mundanes.”

My eyes flicked up at her in annoyance and the word choice but I didn't say anything.

She started drawing again, a tangle of lines and curves. “This means 'speed-'” She pointed. “I makes you faster. These ones together mean 'true sight.' They let you see through glamour. This on means 'sleep -'”

“I know that one,” I said, my fingers brushing my wrist where Jace had carved it.

“Right,” she said, handing me the photograph. “Simple. Are you willing to give me your arm now?”

I wasn't happy about it but I reluctantly rolled up my sleeve. I had to look away as she lifted the knife and I winced at the sudden, sharp pain in my arm. Isabelle was right, though; the pain subsided almost instantly.

I turned my head to see what she'd done, half expecting to see a deep gouge, still leaking blood. Instead, there was only a thick black mark, just like the ones on her arms.

“That's it?” I asked.

She nodded. “Just remember, they can't see you but they can still hear you.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I said, running curious fingers over the glyph.

“I've got to go,” she said.

“Right,” I said. “Here's your picture.”

She shook her head. “Keep it. It might come in handy/”

As she turned to leave, I said, “Hey! Take care of Simon. Keep him safe.”

“I will,” she told me and walked away down the hall.

When I got downstairs, Simon and Isabelle were gone. Probably for the best. I didn't want to be around Simon when he couldn't see me. Alec was in the study, applying some kind of disinfectant to the cut on his cheek.

He looked up as I came in and set down the bottle.

I stayed on the other side of the room, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Where's Luke?” I asked, my words clipped.

“He said he had to change,” Alec replied. After a short silence, he said, “You're angry with me.”

I pursed my lips. “You made the wrong call,” I told him bluntly.

“I have to do what I think is right,” he said.

“I know.”

“I can't always do what people want,” he continued.

“I know,” I snapped.

He went to turn away, then hesitated and turned back to me. “Clary... Just to avoid further awkwardness, I should tell you...”

Where was he going with this? I raised a quizzical eyebrow.

He paused uncertainly. “Earlier, when I said I was seeing someone, that wasn't quite the whole story.”

My eyes narrowed. “Um... okay?”

“I am involved with someone,” he went on, “but even if I wasn't... the circumstances wouldn't be right for a relationship -”

I threw up a hand, stopping him abruptly. “Alec, I really don't care,” I said quickly. God, this was awkward.

He frowned. “It's just, when you asked -”

“Simon asked,” I corrected. “I didn't say anything.” My head throbbed. “I don't want to date you,” I clarified.

He blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Good.” Then he stiffened and added, “Not that you're – it's just -”

“I'm not your type,” I finished with a tired smirk. “It's cool. You're not exactly mine either.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

Alec pursed his lips. “I'm afraid I’ve only made things more awkward.”

“Nah,” I muttered. “We should do this again some time.”

A sudden noise from the hall made me turn. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a large, iron-grey wolf – and honest to God wolf! – slinking into the room.

It took a second for my brain to catch up and I closed my eyes, swallowing. “Luke?” I asked, peering through squinted eyelids.

The wolf nodded.

I closed my eyes again. This was going to take some getting used to.

I felt a warm pressure against my leg and looked down to see the wolf – Luke – leaning reassuringly against my thigh. His shoulder came nearly to my hip – biggest damn dog I'd ever seen.

“It's cool,” I muttered. “You just surprised me.”

I looked up at Alec. If he'd been caught off guard by Luke's entrance, he hid it well.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's go.”

“Tell me we're not taking the death machines,” I said.

“The bikes?” He shook his head. “No. We'll drive.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

Luke sauntered out ahead of me, leading the way to the garage. He seemed to know his way around the house better than I did which struck me as unfair.

As I watched him go, it seemed to me that something was off about him, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. He looked like a dog but he didn't quite move like one. I shook my head and forced myself to look away.

When we got to the garage, Alec unlocked one of the large black cars. I opened the door and Luke leapt into the back in a fluid motion, sprawling languidly across all three seats. He blinked lazy, canine eyes at me and let his tongue loll out of his mouth.

I shook myself. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

I climbed into the front seat, letting my head lean against the window. Alec got in beside me and pulled smoothly into the street.

It was dark outside and the silence in the car was deafening. Damn, but I was tired. Maybe I'd just rest my eyes for a moment...

“Clary.” Someone was shaking me.

I blinked awake, my head throbbing. “Alec?” I said dazedly.

“We're here,” he told me.

I looked around quickly and saw that he had parked just down the block from my apartment. “Right,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. I got out of the car and then had to lean against the doorframe for a minute as a wave of dizziness rushed over me.

Luke stepped out of the backseat and leaned against my hip, lending m his support.

“Thanks,” I breathed, giving his head a hesitant scratch, after a few deep breaths, I regained my balance but the sidewalk still seemed to sway ever so slightly as we walked to my apartment.

As Simon ha said, there was police tape up and a co car pared on the other side of the street. I stiffened nervously when I saw the car,, before remembering that they couldn't see me. Alec continued into the building without a pause and I followed after him. As we went up the stair, I felt a mounting tension and when we finally stepped inside the apartment, I had to stop for a breath, steeling myself. Yesterday, this had been my home. Now it felt dangerous, alien.

“Just point out anything that stands out to you,,” Alec told me softly.

I rolled my eyes, then sighed and said, “How big is it?”

He frowned and finally said, “I'm not sure; I've never actually seen it, only pictures.”

Luke made a low sound and I looked down to see him regarding Alec with a derisive expression. How he managed it on a wolf's features, I couldn't guess, but the sentiment was perfectly clear.

He held a paw perhaps six inches off the ground, then put his two front paws together, three-ish inches apart.

I bit my lip, thinking. "They ripped open every storage space in the house looking for that cup,” I muttered. “Which means there's no point checking drawers and cupboards. That pretty much leaves us with floor, walls, and ceiling.”

Luke nodded approvingly and then trotted off to explore the apartment by himself. Probably a good idea. He knew the place almost as well as I did and I did and he'd actually seen the cup before.

I sighed. “The ceilings are pretty well solid,” I said. “If the cup's up there, we're not getting it out without some serious excavation.” I pursed my lips. “There's a few loose tiles in the kitchen. I suppose there might be something underneath.

We checked. Astonishingly, there was nothing there.

Alec contented himself to dig through the wreckage of the kitchen cupboards while I wandered back to the studio to think. I ran thoughtful fingers over the empty wall and frowned. They had torn down the paintings, probably hoping to see if anything had been hidden behind them.

This was pointless. If their search hadn't turned up anything, then ours wouldn't either. Unless Alec had a glyph to perform some magical find function.

As I wracked my brain for ideas, I knelt by the stack of paintings and started looking through them absently. I paused when I came to the red X. That must have presented an interesting mystery to the cops.

When I reached the end f the stack, I frowned, then went back and counted the paintings. I was right. Some of them were missing. I was sure they had been up yesterday morning... or, was I? The memory felt fuzzy and I was finding it hard to concentrate.

I stood up slowly and went to my room, rifling through drawers. Unsurprisingly, I didn't find the cup but I did find a pair of PJS that would fit me better than Isabelle's and some jeans that were in better shape than the ones I'd packed.

“Find anything?” Alec asked from the doorway.

I jumped, then steadied myself. “Some of my mom's paintings are missing,” I grumbled. “Maybe. Alec, it's not here.”

I didn't wait for a response before gathering up my assorted finds and pushing past him. As I walked back into the studio, the sound of footsteps on the stairs made me freeze, my heart racing. Alec came in behind me and I shot a nervous glance in his direction, jerking my head at the door.

He frowned, then nodded, drawing his gun. Taking my cue from him, I fumbled for my own.

We stood still for a long tense minute, guns pointed squarely at the door as the footsteps came closer. My sing prickled nervously and my stomach churned.

When the door opened at last, I nearly dropped my gun, biting my lip hard to keep from giving myself away. Not a demon, then, or one of the Filii, just a police officer.

Alec lowered his gun calmly, standing very still. I followed suit, forcing myself to breathe normally. She couldn't see us.

The police officer shone her flashlight around the room, blinding me briefly and I struggled to keep my balance as my head started spinning.

“Is anyone there?” she called out. “This is the police!”

Right on cue, Luke came padding in from the other room, his tail wagging in a very dog-like manner. The woman pointed her flashlight at him, then sighed as he approached her, eyeing her curiously. She held out a dubious hand and he sniffed it, then closed his eyes lazily as she ruffled his ears.

“Good boy,” she murmured, then turned to her radio. “It's just a dog.”

“Copy that,” came a voice on the other end of the radio.

I realized I was holing my breath and forced myself to let it out slowly.

“Damn big dog,” she muttered.

“Pet, maybe?”

She shook her head. “No collar,” she said. “Probably just a stray.”

Still scratching his ears, she lifted the flashlight and shone it around the room once more. “There's no one here,” she said last.

She turned to Luke and ave him a gentle shove towards the door. “Sorry, bud,” she muttered. “You've got to clear out.”

He gave a little yip and scampered out of the apartment. She watched hum go, then took a final look around the apartment, passing just inches from me as she peered down the hall. I swallowed, my head throbbing violently. I didn't feel well.

“How did he even get in here?” the woman breathed, frowning. At last, she shrugged and left.

We waited in silence for a few minutes afterwards, then Alec nodded to me and we went out quietly.

My heart was racing when we got to the car, where Luke was waiting for us. My breath came and fast and shallow and my skin felt clammy.

I had to stop to lean against the car and Luke gave a concerned whine.

Alec frowned. “Clary, are you alright?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it and swallowed. Before I could say anything, my stomach wrenched suddenly and I threw up. Then the world started spinning and I fell back into someone's arms.


	14. Chapter 14

Jace stared blankly at the man in the doorway, his mind racing. Whitehawk was alive. Well, shit.

“Who is he?” Whitehawk asked, his tone a mild tenor.

“One of the kids at Blackstone,” Lydia replied.

“And you brought him here?” There was a dangerous note in the words.

“He followed me, Jo,” Lydia snapped. “You said not to hurt them. What was I supposed to do?”

Whitehawk sighed. “This complicates things.”

“If you're worried it's a security risk, I'll get rid of him,” Lydia replied easily.

“No,” said Whitehawk. “Not yet. He could still be useful.”

Lydia shrugged.

“Is he alone?”

“There were four others – two boys and two girls,” Lydia replied. “They didn't come after him, though.”

“Fine,” Whitehawk said. “Let's hope it stays that way.” He paused for a moment, looking across at Rhiannon.

“Rhi,” he said, his voice almost gentle.

She only stared back at him with stony hatred.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go,” he went on, “but it's good to see you.”

“Fuck you, Josiah,” she said quietly.

If he was bothered by her curt response, he didn't show it. “I'll speak with you later,” he said mildly. “We have a lot to discuss.”

She didn't answer so he only nodded to Lydia and walked away. Jace nearly ran for the door but stopped himself. He wouldn't have made it and he wasn't going to give the bitch the satisfaction of slamming the door in his face – again. Instead, he only glared at her from across the room as she sealed him in.

As the latch clicked shut, Jace closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, then turned to Rhiannon. He still couldn't quite see in the darkness but he could just make out her silhouette.

“Did you know?” he demanded.

“About Josiah?” she asked. “I suppose I always had my suspicions.” She let out a slow breath. “People like him don't just die. I saw him when they first brought me here – just for a second but it was enough.”

“So you knew he was alive this whole time?” Jace snapped. “You could have told me.”

She shrugged. “I didn't think it mattered,” she replied.

“You didn't think it mattered that one of the most dangerous terrorists in history has been alive this whole time,” he sneered.

She turned her head to look at him. “Now you know,” she told him. “What exactly do you imagine you can do about it?”

He glared at her through the darkness. “I don't know," he growled. “Something.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, turning away. “That's what I thought.”

The silence stretched out between them for a tense minute. Finally Jace sighed and sat, leaning against the cold concrete wall. “What do they want with you, anyway?” he asked, propping his elbows on his knees.

She paused, considering,then said, “They think I took something from them.”

“Did you?”

“Does it matter?” she replied.

“What was it?" Jace asked. “Hypothetically.”

“A cup,” she said, after a thoughtful pause.

“A cup?” he repeated dubiously.

“It's important,” she explained.

Jace frowned. “An important cup... You don't mean...” His eyes widened. “You bastard,” he muttered, smirking. “You stole the Mortal Cup.”

“That's what they're saying,” she replied.

Jace shook his head. “So all this is about some old relic?”

“It's not a relic,” she told him.

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he muttered.

They lapsed into silence – he couldn't tell how long. After a while, he heard footsteps approaching and he straightened warily. He shot a glance at Rhiannon but she only stayed where she was, watching the door calmly.

It slid open with a loud clanging noise and two unfamiliar shadowhunters entered. They stalked over to Rhiannon, barely acknowledging Jace at all, and grabbed her by the arms, hauling her to her feet.

“Hey,” Jace yelled.

They ignored him, dragging Rhiannon towards the door.

“Hey, assholes!” he yelled again, scrambling to his feet.

One of them shot him a cool look over her shoulder. “Shut up,” she sneered.

Jace shot a desperate look at Rhiannon, braced between the two shadowhunters and clenched his fists in frustration. Then the door slammed shut, dropping him into darkness once more.

***

“Clary?” The voice was soft in my ear and someone was shaking me gently.

I groaned, not wanting to wake up.

“Clary.” The voice was harsher now, impatient.

“Isabelle?” I asked blearily, peeling open reluctant eyes.

“Why didn't you tell anyone you had a concussion,” she demanded.

“What?”

“I said. 'Why didn't you tell anyone you had a concussion?'” she repeated, raising her voice.

“Why are you yelling at me?” I mumbled.

She made a disgusted noise. “You're worse than Alec,” she muttered.

“I can't see anything.”

“I didn't turn the light on,” she snapped. “I didn't want to hurt your eyes.

“Thanks,” I said meekly.

“Ugh. Here,” she said, handing me a glass of water. “Drink this.”

“So you and Simon got back okay?” I asked, taking a sip of water.

“We were getting contact lenses,” she muttered, “not casting the one ring into the fires of Mount Doom. He's fine.”

“Alec... Luke... What's going on” I swallowed. “I have to get up. I have to-”

“No,” she said, taking the water away from me and setting it beside the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

With that, she left.

I didn't want to sleep – I had things to so – but the covers pulled me down and darkness overwhelmed me.

Isabelle was shaking me again.

“What?” I grumbled. “Why won't you just let me sleep?”

“Because you have a concussion,” she told me.

Damn it. I knew that but it didn't make me feel better and it didn't reduce the imaginative stream of curses running through my head.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better,” I said, reaching for the water glass.

“Are you lying to me?”

“No!” My head still hurt a little, but it had faded to a dull ache. Mostly I was just tired.

“Hmph,” Isabelle sounded disapproving.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she asked.

“Earlier – after you left – Alec said...” I paused for a moment, considering. “Somehow Alec got the idea that I was... romantically interested in him.”

“What?” She snorted. “Why?”

“Don't ask me,” I muttered. “Simon's the one who asked him out..”

“Simon?” She sounded taken aback.

I nodded. “Anyway, Alec got super weird about it and spent like twenty minutes trying to tell me he wasn't interested – as if he was afraid he'd hurt my feelings.”

“What are you saying?” Isabelle said softly.

“Just, the way he said it... Alec's not really into girls, is he?”

There was a long silence before Isabelle said, “You can't tell anyone.”

I blinked. “I won't,” I said quickly. “Is he... is he not out?”

She lowered her voice. “It's complicated,” she said. “Shadowhunters aren't always as tolerant as you want them to be.”

“Yeah, I've noticed,” I said sourly.

“I love my brother,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

“I know.”

“He doesn't like to broadcast it,” she said. “It's hard to know how a person will react.”

“I get it,” I told her. “I won't say anything. But, Isabelle? It really doesn't matter to me.”

She nodded mutely, then said, "Get some sleep. I'll come check on you in a bit.”

By the time she returned, I was feeling almost human again. I must have looked better too, because Isabelle finally agreed to let me come downstairs. She brought me to the kitchen where Alec was working his way through a pile of throwing knives, sharpening each one to a razor's edge. Isabelle offered to find me some cereal but I figured it was probably too soon to risk eating.

“Where's Simon?” I asked, sliding into the seat across from Alec.

“He's sleeping on the couch,” Isabelle replied. “I'll go get him.”

I frowned at that and glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was nearly three in the morning. We'd waste so much time!

“Why'd you let me sleep so much?” I demanded.

“You're concussed,” Alec replied. “You weren't in any shape to be doing anything else.”

“What have you been doing this whole time?”

“We waited for Simon and Isabelle to get back, then we went to Luke's place to see if we could find anything,” Alec said, not looking up from the knife he was working on.

“And?” I pressed.

“And we didn't,” he told me curtly..

“Tell me that means you've given up on this wild goose chase,” I muttered as Isabelle returned, towing a yawning Simon.

“Well, we didn't really have any other leads on the cup,” Isabelle said.

“We didn't check the walls and ceiling at Clary's apartment,” Alec argued, glancing up.

Isabelle rolled he eyes. “Alec, that place has been searched from top to bottom – twice! If we didn't find anything, we're not going to – and neither is the Filii.”

He didn't say anything so she went on. “Anyway, Luke decided to start asking around with his downworlder contacts to see if any of them know anything about your mom or where the Filii are holing up.”

“Has he found anything?”

She shrugged. “Not much luck so far,” she admitted.

“Don't you people ever sleep,” Simon grumbled, sitting beside her, slumped over the table with his head on his arms.

“We don't have time for that right now,” Alec replied, tapping an unfamiliar glyph on the side of his neck.

“What is that? Some king of magical stimulant?” I muttered. “That can't be good for you.”

“I'll be fine.”

“I think I'll stick with good old-fashioned caffeine,” I said. “Simon, you want some coffee?”

He didn't look up from his elbow but he gave me a muffled thumbs up.

As I got up to put a pot of coffee on, Luke walked into the kitchen, tucking his cellphone into his pocket.

He was looking much better. His arms was out of the sling and some colour had returned to his cheeks. Not to mention that I was a little relieved to see him walking on two legs instead of four.

“I think I've got something,” he said. “A wolf named Lyanna; she's one of Maia's.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“She's willing to help,” he replied. “She didn't want to say much more than that over the phone – you can never really be sure who might be listening – so we have to meet face to face.”

“It could be a trap,” Alec pointed out.

“It could be,” Luke allowed, “but I doubt it. She has no reason to attack and even if she did there are better ways to do it. I'd say she's just being cautious.”

“Doesn't that strike you as a little paranoid,” Isabelle asked.

“Well, the world isn't always so friendly to people like us,” he told her, his tone turning a little sour. “Paranoia helps keep you alive. Besides,” he added after a moment, “Lyanna doesn't like me much.”

“Fine,” I said, before we could get too distracted. “Where are you meeting this woman?”

“The twenty-four hour grocer down the street,” Luke replied. “I figured Alec and I could meet her there in -” he glanced at the clock “- ten or fifteen minutes.”

“I'm coming with you,” I said.

“No,” said Luke firmly.

I rolled my eyes. “I feel fine,” I snapped. “And you said yourself it probably wasn't dangerous.”

“It's not safe, Clary,” Luke told me. “And she' probably not going to want to talk with a crowd of shadowhunters.

“It's not a crowd,” I said. “Simon's not a shadowhunter and I hardly count.”

“It doesn't work that way -”

I cut him off. “It's my mom,” I said firmly. “I'm not staying behind.”

“I'm coming too,” said Isabelle.

I glanced at Alec who nodded in agreement. Simon, meanwhile, had fallen asleep but I was sure he would have agreed with me.

Luke sighed. “Fine” he growled.

“Good,” I replied.

Luke only shook his head and walked out of the room, muttering under his breath.

“How's your head?” Isabelle asked.

“Hey, Alec cut his face open,” I pointed out. “Isn't anyone worried about him?”

Alec glanced up at me, not saying anything.

“I'm fine,” I grumbled.

“I know you want to find your mom,” Isabelle said softly. “But I'm sure she wouldn't want you hurting yourself to do it.”

“How would you know,” I muttered, then shook my head. “No. Sorry, that wasn't fair.” I sighed. “The truth is, if my mom had her way, I wouldn't be looking for her at all.”

“I'm just worried about you,” Isabelle replied.

“I'm really fine,” I assured her.

“Okay.”

Without a word, Alec gathered up the puled of sharpened knives. About half of them disappeared into various sheaths I had never noticed before – he hadn't been wearing that many knives this whole time had he? – and he left with the rest.

I frowned, then turned to Isabelle. “How are you doing?”

“What?” she asked, taken off guard .

“It's been a long day for all of us,” I said, shrugging, “not just for me. How are you holding up?”

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it and sighed unhappily. “I'm worried about Jace,” she said, not looking at me.

“Yeah.”

“You heard what Lydia said,” she murmured. “I know the odds of him being alive -”

“He's alive,” I said. They were empty words – I had no more proof that he was alive than that my mom was – but it felt like the right thing to say. “Luke's friend will help us figure out where they are and then we'll get them back.”

She forced a nod. “Right,” she said softy.

After a short silence, I said, “You don't have that many knives on you, do you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Alec just left with, like, six knives on him.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “He's probably just feeling a little cautious about everything that's happened.”

“I thought he was more of a gun person,” I said.

She shrugged. “Generally,” she explained. “But knives can't run out of bullets.”

“Ah,” I said, suddenly finding my own nine-millimetre a lot less reassuring.

Just then, Luke poked his had into the kitchen. “Wake up Simon,” he said. “We're leaving.


	15. Chapter 15

Simon wasn't exactly pleased to be awoken but the mug of coffee I pressed into his hands as I did so probably helped. The location the woman had given us was only a block or so away so we opted to walk.

It must have looked odd: Alec and Isabelle in skintight black clothing; me in ripped jeans and an Alphonse t-shirt; Simon practically sleepwalking; and Luke riding herd on us lie a very scruffy-looking mother hen. We all walked almost uncomfortably close together, watching the dark corners of the street with wary eyes. Fortunately, nothing unfriendly jumped out at us in the few short minutes it took us to reach our destination.

At Luke's suggestion, Alec and Isabelle agreed to wait by the door, in sight out out of the way. They looked rather conspicuous with the multitude of glyphs up and down their arms, and Luke wasn't sure how Lyanna would react.

While they waited, relatively nonthreatening but ready to help if trouble arose, Luke, Simon, and I went roaming through the aisles, looking for the person we were supposed to meet. We found her in the frozen foods section, leaning against the glass with her arms folded in front of her chest. She wore a dark trench coat and her graying hair was pulled back into a neat raid. A long scar ran own one side of her face and after a beat I recognized her as the woman from the downworlder bar.

She watched us approach with a kind of wary, unenthusiastic expression. “So,” she said as we came closer. “They found you.”

Luke frowned in confusion and I said, “Yes, we did. Thank you for your help.”

“You’ve already met,” Luke said slowly.

Simon, seeming fully awake at this point, nodded. “She told us where you were.”

The woman with the scar – Lyanna – heaved a sigh. “I hear you ran into some trouble outside the den.”

“Just some vampires looking for a fight,” Luke replied. “Nothing we couldn't handle.”

Lyanna regarded him with narrowed eyes. “When you first came to town, I advised Maia to send you away,” she said.

“I know,” Luke muttered tiredly. It sounded lie this wasn't the first time she' told him this.

“I was sure you'd rain trouble down on our heads,” she went on. 'I'm still not sure she made the right call. Now you're running around with shadow hunters.” There was a deep rooted bitterness in that last word, escaping through her teeth.

“I have no intention of hurting the pack,” Luke told her thinly.

She sighed. “I know,” she said. “That's the only reason I came.”

“You'll help us?” I asked, my breath coming faster.

She regarded me distastefully. “That depends,” she said. “What do you want?”

“The Filii have taken some people we care about,” Luke explained. “We have to find them.”

Lyanna pursed her lips. “I don't know where the bastards are,” she said at last.

“But you must have an idea,” Luke pressed. “Wolves that have gone missing – parts of the cit that you avoid...”

“I avoid a lot of places,” she snapped. “There's a base of shadowhunters in the city; it's just common sense.”

Luke didn't say anything, only watched her silently.

After a long moment, she relented. “Ask Rahne,” she said. “She's a loner, like you. Got into some trouble a few days back.”

“Where can I find her?” Luke asked.

“Maia offered her a place to stay; she turned her down,” Lyanna replied. “Last I heard, Ben's been letting her crash in the spare room above the bar – at least until she can get her feet under her. I'd look there.”

Luke held her gaze evenly and nodded.

“Thanks,” Simon said. “We owe you one.”

She regarded him with a bemused expression. “You ought to be careful saying that to people like us.”

“Werewolves?”

“Downworlders. You might not like the results.”

Simon nodded. “Good to know.”

“Now go away,” Lyanna said, without any preamble. “And take the baby shadowhunters with you. They're not fooling anyone.”

We turned and headed for the exit. Alec was leaning against the wall, trying to look casual, while Isabelle paged absently through a gossip magazine without looking at the pages.

“Well?” she asked when we reached her.

“She gave us a name,” I said.

“A name,” Alec asked, sounding underwhelmed.

“Rahne,” Luke told him, leading us outside. “She's at The Green Man now; we should go talk to her.”

Alec nodded. “We'll stop by Blackstone on the way and grab a car.”

“It's three in the morning,” I objected.

He looked at me blankly.

“Okay, maybe I’m not the most experienced with bar crawling, but won't it be closed?”

“It's never closed,” Luke explained. “Its patrons tend to keep unusual hours.”

I just shook my head. “Okay,” I muttered.

As we made our way back to Blackstone, Simon leaned in and said, under his breath, “Just do a thoughtful expression and nod slowly whenever they say stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the tip,” I told him.

He shrugged. “It works for me.”

I chuckled. “Is that what that look was,” I said. “I thought you were just tired.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Thoughtful.”

“You don't have to do this, you know,” I said after a moment, biting my lip.

“Do what?”

“Come with me,' I said. “You could just go home, if you wanted.”

“I know that,” he replied. “We already had this conversation, remember?”

I sighed. “It's just... it's dangerous.”

He blinked. “Really? You know, now that you mention it, the vampire attack probably should have tipped me off.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Me neither,” he replied with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I snapped, then, “I was trying to be noble.”

“You did it very well,” he told me, patting me gently on the head. I rolled my eyes harder and shoved him away. He stumbled back, laughing.

The other three had gotten some distance ahead of us so I hurried to catch up, Simon close at my heels.

When we got to the house, we went straight through to the garage and piled into one of the large black cars. Alec drove, Luke took shotgun, and I ended up squished between Simon and Isabelle in the backseat. It was a little cramped but still a lot more enjoyable than the last ride I'd taken to the downworlder bar. That – perfectly valid – opinion was probably the reason I kept catching Isabelle smirking at me from underneath her eyelashes.

At this time of night, the streets weren't too crowded, so in just a few minutes, the car pulled to a stop about half a block away from the run-down strip mall that housed the secret bar.

From the outside, everything was so dark and quiet that I half expected the doors to be locked, but they swung open easily. Inside, the bar was every bit as busy as it had been earlier. Luke led the way through the maze of tables and chairs to the bar at the back of the room. The rest of us trailed behind him, trying to ignore all of the unfriendly eyes that fixed on us as we walked. I felt a nervous prickle alone the back of my neck and took a step closer to Simon.

“Relax,” he said. “I'm sure it'll be fine.”

“And you're basing this on what, exactly?” I muttered.

Before he could answer, we reached the bar and we all quieted as the bartender turned to face us. He barely looked older than Isabelle, all gangly limbs and knobby joints, but his expression was one of experienced calm.

“Are you here for a drink?” he asked. He had a trace of an accent that I couldn't quite place.

“Not at the moment,” Luke replied. “We're looking for someone.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Again?” he said coolly.

Luke ignored that. “A wolf by the name of Rahne,” he said. “Lyanna said she might be here.”he Bartender's expression hardened. “Could be, he said. “What do you want with her.?”

Behind us, the tension in the room seemed to be growing and I shot a nervous glance at Alec. He didn't look concerned, but his face wasn't exactly the most expressive.

“We just want to talk,” Luke told him

“This is about the Filii Umbrae.” It was more of a statement than a question. “That's why they're here.” He nodded at Alec and Isabelle.

“We're trying to stop them,” Luke said. “Rahne can help.”

The bartender considered that for a moment. “That's her,” he said at last, gesturing to a dar table in the corner. “But you behave yourselves, mind. She's not had an easy time these past few days.”

Luke thanked him and led us over to the table where a small woman was hunched over a half-empty glass, her back against the wall.

She fixed fierce, hazel eye on us as we approached an her whole body tensed.

Luke put up a hand, gesturing for us to hang back.

“Do you belong to Maia?” Rahne demanded, watching him warily.

“I belong to myself,” Luke replied gently, “just like you.”

“And them?” there was an untempered hatred in her voice that took me aback. I'd never had anything like it directed at me before. I didn't like it.

“They're here to help,” Luke said.

“Help.” Her lip drew up in a snarl. “It was bastards like them that killed Ronnie.”

“The Filii?”

“What difference does it make?” she snapped. “They're all murderers, aren't they?”

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably beside me.

“Where, Rahne?” Luke pressed. “Where did it happen?”

She stared at him angrily for a long moment her eyes bright. Then she slumped a little. “LOCATION. We were staying there – me and Ronnie. We watch each other's backs – at least, we did.” She paused, looking away. “It was three nights ago,” she said finally, her voice soft. “We should have seen it coming; we weren't the first ones attacked.”

“There were others?” Luke asked gently.

Rahne jerked her head in a nod.

“I'm sorry,” Luke told her. “If there's anything-”

Her head whipped up sharply, her eyes flashing. “I don't' need your help,” she hissed. “I've heard about you. You used to be one of them.”

Luke didn't seem to have and answer.

“Go away,” Rahne went on. “I don't need you or Maia.”

Luke hesitated a moment, as id he wanted to say something more, but at her continued glare, he got up and came back to us.

“Come on,” he said. “We have out answer. We shouldn't stay.”

Alec nodded and led us toward the exit.

Simon leaned in towards me and whispered, “See? I told you it'd be fine.”

“We're not out the door yet,” I replied.

He shrugged and didn't argue.

As we neared the door, a rumbling voice nearly made my heart stop.

“It was foolish of you to come back here.”

I spun around to see the big man from before, leaning against the warn down wall of the bar.

“We don't want a fight,” Alec told him, stepping forward. Some day I'd have to find out ho he always managed to recover himself so quickly.

The big man narrowed his eye dangerously. “I have a hard time believing that, after what you did to Andre. The man was bastard but he didn't deserve that.”

I glanced nervously at Ale. Somehow, I didn't see this ending well.

“That was unfortunate,” Alec allowed, “but he attacked us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.”

“Defending yourselves?” the other man scoffed. “Is that why you left them torn to pieces on the street for anyone to see?”

I stiffened, my breath drawing in sharply.

“That's not what happened,” Simon began, but Luke shot him a quelling look.

Alec frowned. “We fought with Andre and his friends – I won't deny that – but they were alive when we left them.”

“I have no reason to believe you,” the big man hissed softly.

“And I have no reason to start a war in the middle of the Accords,” Alec replied. “If you trust nothing else, trust that.”

The man flicked his eyes to Luke who nodded firmly.

“Then who...” The man grimaced. “I should have known.”

As he spoke, the doors of the bar swung open with a violent force that made me jump and a group of people dressed in black swarmed in. I didn't recognize their faces but I recognized the crowded coils of glyphs that covered their skin. Filii.

There must have been at least ten of them, armed to the teeth with every kind of weapon imaginable – and they were so damned fast! The first one was barely a foot away from us before before I'd even gotten my gun free from its holster. I swung it up to bear but most of the bullets found nothing but the walls of the bar.

All around me was a disorienting flurry of noise and movement as the bar patrons leapt into the fray.

I dropped to a terrified crouch when the sound of machine gun fire – it couldn't possibly have been anything else – ripped through the room, only to be cut off abruptly. I climbed hurriedly to my feet to avoid being trampled, and gaped at the bodies that lay strewn across the room. I glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of Luke or Simon – or someone to shoot at.

I felt a hand grab my arm and I nearly shrieked, pinning around, but it was only Isabelle.

“Come on,” she hissed, dragging me towards the bar, deftly dodging the limbs of downworlders and shadowhunters alike.

When we were a few yards away, one of the Filii stepped up with a grin to block our path. I brought my gun up in a quick frantic potions and fired three times into his chest. He twisted as I did so that the first shot buried itself in his shoulder and the last two missed altogether. Before he could do anything else, Isabelle leapt forward, wrapping her legs around his waist and letting her moment carry him to the ground. He was stilling falling when her right hand jerked up to drive her knife into his throat. .

She sprang up in an instant and grabbed me, hoisting me over the bar with far too little effort for a girl her size.

Simon was already tucked safely behind the bar, crouched down, out of sight. “Hi,” he breathed.

“Both of you, stay here,” Isabelle hissed, before disappearing back into the crowd.

My heart still racing, I checked my gun, reloaded it, and braced myself against the back wall, ready to fire. After a while, my hands started to shake, and at last the sounds of fighting died down. I finally dared to peek my head over the top of the bar.

The scene on the other side was not unlike the aftermath of a tornado. Tables and chairs lay smashed and overturned. There were bodies everywhere and the milling fighters all looked the worst for wear. I bit my lip, scanning the room for Luke, Isabelle, and Alec, breathing a sigh of relief when I spotted them.

“It's safe,” Isabelle said, flexing her wrist gingerly. “You can come out now.”

I stepped out from behind the bar, with Simon following close behind, and made my way over to Luke.

“What happened?” I asked.

He shrugged. “They couldn't win this one. I suppose they just decided to cut their losses.”

I nodded dazedly.

“Are you alright?” Alec asked as he and Isabelle joined us.

“Never better,” Simon replied. “You?”

Before Alec could answer, a voice rang out fro the other side of the room. “We got one.”

We hurried over to see the big man crouched over the body of one of the Filii.

“Maybe now we can get some answers,” he said with a broad grin.

I frowned. “Wouldn't he kin of have to be alive for that?” I asked.

“Hardly,” the man replied. “Not if you know the right people.”

Alec shook his head. “He only works by appointment,” he said. “We don't have that kind of time.”

“Maybe for you, shadowhunter,” the big man told him. “But for a friend, I think he'll be willing to bend the rules.”

Alec pursed his lips unhappily but finally nodded in acquiescence. “Lead the way,” he muttered.

With a smirk, the man hoisted the body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and strode towards the door.

As Alec and Isabelle followed after him, I turned to Luke. “I think I missed something,” I said. “Where are we going?”

“We need a warlock to read the body,” Luke told me. “There's only one in the city who's good enough. Magnus Bane.”


	16. Chapter 16

Several hours had passed before Jace heard the faint sound of footsteps in the corridor. He scrambled to his feet just as the door slid open to reveal two Filii members with Jocelyn slung weakly between them. The shoved her unceremoniously back into the cell and slammed the door shut behind her.

Jace glared at the door in frustration, then turned silently to Jocelyn. Moving stiffly, she made her way to the far wall and slid t the floor, bracing her knees against her chest.

Jace bit his lip, then walked over to sit beside her. “You okay?” he asked after a moment, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I'll live,” she replied, her voice hoarse.

“What happened?”

She pulled the collar of her shirt aside to reveal the stark black lines of glyph engraved above her heart.

Jace's jaw tightened angrily. A truth mark. The use of those marks was highly restricted – all of the ones which could take away someone's free will were. Jace had been unfortunate enough to have one used on him during the Trials, before being placed with the Lightwoods. It had not gone well.

“Then it's over,” he said through his teeth.

Jocelyn shook her head. “The damn things don't do all that much if you just don't say anything.”

Jace looked at her sharply, impressed, but his lips tightened. When he saw the swollen bruise across her left cheek. “What happened there?” he asked hesitantly.

Her fingers brushed her cheek. “When he couldn't get me to talk, Josiah... lost his temper.”

Jace grimaced. “I'm sorry,” he muttered.

She shrugged. “Bruises heal. He's done worse.”

Jace snorted at that, but didn't answer.

“It's funny,” Jocelyn said after a moment, “he never hit me when we were married. We fought, but he never hit me until today.”

Jace grit his teeth. As if fists were the only way to hurt someone. “Why'd you marry him anyway?”

She shrugged. “He was charming, a hunter like me – and he didn't expect me to give up my whole life just to settle down and have a family. I thought I was lucky to have found someone like him.”

“And his crackpot demon blood theory didn't tip you off that something was wrong,” Jace said with a twist of his lips.

“It wasn't his theory,” she replied softly. “Not at first anyway. I was the one who made the connection, he just helped me prove it – him and Luke.”

Jace stared at her for a long moment. “Prove it... Are you saying it's true?” he asked at last.

“Sorry,” Jocelyn murmured. “I didn't mean to dump it on you like that.”

“So, all this time, we've been trying to help you and you actually agree with this bastard?” Jace found his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“No,” Jocelyn said quickly. “When I found out about the blood, I thought I'd made some great scientific discovery but to him, it was something deeper, twisted. I didn't know how to argue with him, and then I was just trapped.”

“You didn't know how to argue?” Jace snapped. “People died because of that – lots of people!”

“I know.”

“Don't you care?” His nails were cutting painfully into his palms.

“Will caring bring them back?”

He glared at her and a tense silence fell between the two of them.

“Of course I care,” she said finally. “Perhaps if I had acted sooner, we might have avoided this. But I didn't. All that matters now is what I did, and what we do now.”

Jace looked away, his lips tight. Then, without looking at her, he said. “He shouldn't have hit you.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “A lot of things have happened that shouldn't have.”

Jace didn't know how to answer that so he didn't try.

“Jace?”

He flinched at the word, as if it burned him.

“I'm sorry.”

He got up abruptly and walked to the other side of the cell, ignoring the moisture at the corners of his eyes. Maybe it would be best if they didn't talk for a while.

***

Raphael – our unlikely ally had at last given us his name – was reluctant to give the address, but since there was enough room in the car for all of us and the body, he agreed to meet us there. We arrived before he did and found ourselves lurking by an innocuous row of nearly identical apartments.

“Do you think this guy's house is sandwiched in between, somewhere?” Simon muttered, low enough that only I could hear.

“I probably shouldn't rule it out,” I replied.

After a long enough wait that people had begun shifting uncomfortably and wondering if Raphael was coming at all, we heard someone approaching. A few seconds later, Raphael appeared with the body over his shoulder.

“Let's go,” he said. “What are you waiting for?”

“You,” Isabelle grumbled, not quite under her breath.

Raphael chuckled and led us to one of the many doorways, knocking heavily three times. It wasn't lung before the door swung open and a man appeared.

He wore comfortable looking pajama pants but his feet and chest were bare. His black hair was mussed and vivid gold eyes gleamed from underneath thick lashes. His face was stunningly handsome, though at the moment it bore an expression of sharp annoyance. He clearly hadn't been expecting visitors.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“Magnus,” Raphael rumbled. “Good to see you.”

“It's the middle of the night,” Magnus replied. “I don't appreciate you turning up on my doorstep like this – I have company.”

I glanced at Luke uncertainly. What were the odds that this was actually going to work?

“Maggie, come now...”

Wait, 'Maggie'?

Raphael's face broke into a broad grin, undeterred. “You know I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgent.”

“It would have to be to have all of you working together,” he muttered. For the first time his gaze left Raphael and scanned the rest of the group. When it landed on me, I thought I saw something flicker across his eyes and the back of my neck prickled unhappily.

Finally he frowned thoughtfully and turned back to Raphael. “Who's the stiff?”

“Filii Umbrae,” Raphael told him.

Magnus tensed almost imperceptibly. Then he sighed. “Bring him inside. Put him on the the table.”

I blinked in surprise. That had been a lot less painful than I thought it would be. As we all filtered into the apartment, the soft sound of jazz music drifted in from the other room. Magnus disappeared briefly only to return a moment later having donned a shirt and slippers.

In the mean time, Raphael had laid the body out on the kitchen table while the rest of us hovered around awkwardly.

“Alright,” Magnus said as he joined us, brushing his hair back from his face. “Let's see what we've got.” He ran through a quick examination of the body before stepping back and pursing his lips.

“Should be manageable,” he said. “First things first, how are you paying me? I don't work for free.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “You know you owe me from two years ago,” he said. “Call it a favour for an old friend.”

“That covers you,” Magnus allowed. “What about them.”

My stomach churned and I glanced nervously at Alec, who said, “We have limited funds at the moment but I'm sure we could spare something.”

“I don't want your money,” Magnus told him.

“Then what do you want?”

“Blood,” he said, and I felt the whole room tense. “Three drops will do.”

“I won't give you my blood,” Alec said firmly. “Name something else.”

“Not you,” Magnus replied, cutting him off sharply. Then his golden gaze slid over to me. “You.”

I shivered involuntarily. There was no way that this was a good idea, but if it would help me find my mom... I bit my lip, then, before my common sense could win out, said, “Fine.”

“You can't!” Luke objected, his hand catching my arm.

“He's right,” Alec said. “I can't allow you to do that.”

“You can't 'allow' me to do anything,” I snapped. “I'm not one of you. You have no authority over me.” I turned back to Magnus and swallowed. “It's my decision. I'll do it.”

Just then, the jazz music from the next room cut off ominously. I froze, then, out of the silence, a voice called out, “Magnus? Are you coming back to bed?”

A moment later, a man poked his head around the corner and his eyes widened.

“I'll be right there,” Magnus said quickly.

After a brief hesitation, the man said, “It looks like you're busy; I should go.”

“No, stay,” Magnus said plaintively. “I'll be quick!”

“You have clients,” the other man said, grabbing his jacket off the back of a nearby chair. “We'll do dinner tomorrow.” He leaned in to give Magnus a quick kiss on the cheek and then left without another word.

Magnus rubbed his mouth tiredly while the rest of us stared at the all-too-domestic scene in lingering shock.

“Where were we,” Magnus muttered. “Right, blood.” He looked at me and produced a sharp pin and a small glass vial, apparently out of nowhere.

I swallowed, steeling myself, and held out my hand. After a moments discomfort, it was all over and he released my hand, the vial disappearing back to wherever it cam from.

“You have your pound of flesh,” Isabelle grumbled. “Now will you help us?”

“Your metaphor is rather inappropriate,” Magnus said, bending over the body, “Since Portia's argument was that Shylock was entitled only to flesh, not blood, none the less. . . “

He pulled out a sharp knife and cut open the dead man's shirt, baring the stab wound that had, no doubt, killed him. As his long fingers moved over the body, I saw that his perfectly manicured nails had been painted a shade of gold that nearly matched his eyes.

I didn't follow everything that he did, but at last Magnus sat back with a satisfied expression and said, “I'm ready.” Then he leaned in and kissed the dead man.

The man's back arched off the table as if someone had hit him with a defibrillator. Then Magnus pulled back breathing heavily and planted his hands on the dead man's shoulders. “Ask your questions,” he said quickly.

As I stared in stunned disbelief, Alec leaned in anxiously. “Where are the rest of you hiding out?”

The body coughed, then rasped a single unintelligible word. A startled squeal escaped my lips before I clapped my hand firmly over my mouth.

“Where,” Alec said again, unfazed.

“Warehouse . . .” the body hissed. “By the docks . . .”

“How many of you are there?”

“Twenty seven . . .” every word sunded like it was being ripped out of him by sheer force of will.”

“What are you after?” Alec pressed. “Is it the cup?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you attack The Green Man?” Raphael growled.

“Whitehawk's orders . . . Kill them all . . .”

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room before Luke whispered, “Josiah – Whitehawk's alive?”

“Yes . . .”

“I can't keep him here much longer,” Magnus said through his teeth.

Finally my need for answers won out over my terror and disgust. “Where are the prisoners?” I demanded. “Are they alive?”

“Prisoners . . .”

“A woman in her mid-forties -”

“And a twenty-one year old boy with blond hair,” Isabelle cut in. “Are they alive?”

There was a brief, terrifying pause and for a moment I was afraid he wouldn't answer. Finally he rasped, “Yes . . .”

As soon as the word was out, Magnus gasped and released the man's shoulders, panting tiredly.

“Josiah's alive,” Luke breathed, his tone one of quiet disbelief.

“It doesn't change anything,” Alec said simply. “The plan stays the same.”

“Central Authority has to be informed,” Luke said.

Alec nodded. “I'll send a message home, but for now, we have to get Jace and Jocelyn out.”

“I'll come with you,” Raphael said, taking me off guard.

Alec nodded again, slowly. “We should be going.”

“No, by all means, stay,” Magnus grumbled. “It's not like I have plans anymore.”

As we turned to leave, he said, “Clary, would you wait a moment? I have to speak with you. Alone.”

I stiffened but forced myself to take a deep – if shaky – breath and turned around, waving off Luke's look of concern.

Once they had left and I was alone with Magnus, I said, “How did you know my name?” I wished my voice sounded less terrified, but . . .

“I knew your mother,” he explained, leading me into the other room. “At least, we met a few times, twenty years ago.”

My eyes widened. “You did?”

He nodded. “She wanted a spell that would let her hide something,” he told me, “although she wouldn't tell me what.”

I swallowed uncertainly and waited for him to continue.

“She gave me that as payment,” he said, pointing at the wall.

I looked where he pointed and my chest tightened when I saw a small oil painting hanging above the fireplace. I hadn't seen it before but I could recognize my mother's work anywhere.

“As it turned out, I couldn't help her,” Magnus went on, “but she insisted I keep the painting.”

I turned back to him warily, wondering where he was going with this, and saw him draw the vial of blood out of some unseen pocket.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked, more quietly than I'd meant to.

“Your mother paid me for my help and never got it,” he told me, picking up a quill pen and a scrap of paper from the nearby table. “I owe her, and helping you settles that debt.”

I stared, bewildered, as he dipped the quill into the blood, drawing the thick liquid into the nib, and traced a long, twisting symbol on the paper. Frowning, I recognized it belatedly as a shadowhunter glyph. As I watched, the blood sank into the paper and slowly faded from sight.

Then, settling his unreadable golden eyes on mine, Magnus took the vial with the remaining blood and threw it into the fire.

“Here,” he said, handing me the paper.

As I took it, faint red lines appeared on the surface, forming an indistinct map. I stared in amazement and looked up at Magnus.

“It's linked to your mother,” he explained. “It can only show the parts of the building she's seen.”

“Thank you,” I breathed.

He nodded slowly. “It's a beautiful painting,” he told me. “I hope you find your mother.”

“Thanks,” I said again, before hurrying out to rejoin the others. Raphael was gone by the time I got out, as was the body. I wondered what he planned to do with it before quickly deciding I didn't want to know the answer.

“What did he want?” Alec asked stiffly as we headed back to the car.

“Nothing,” I said, almost dazedly. “He gave me a map.” I handed him the paper.

“I don't see anything,” he said after a moment.

I frowned and took the paper back. Immediately, the faint red lines began to rise to the surface. “Maybe it only works when I'm holding it,” I suggested.

“But why?” Isabelle cut in. “I mean, why give it to you?”

I shrugged. “I don't know.”

“I'll never understand these people,” she muttered, sighing.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I'm sure he had his reasons,” I said quietly.

As the car pulled away, taking us back to Blackstone, I turned to Simon. “You were awfully quiet back there,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “The dead body on the kitchen table just isn't a social situation I've run into before, you know?”

“Sorry,” I told him, resting my head on his shoulder. It was just the right height and in the darkness, felt my eyelids start to droop. It wasn't long before sleep over took me completely.

***

“If you keep pacing like that, you're going to wear though the soles of you shoes.”

Jace stopped walking and glared in Jocelyn's direction. She probably didn't see it in the darkness of the cell but it made him feel better anyway. With a sigh, he turned to lean against the wall, doing his best to ignore the restlessness that had been building in him since he'd been locked in here.

“You alright?” Jocelyn asked, her tone gentle.

“Yeah,” he said. Then, reluctantly, he added, “I don't like confined spaces.”

“Claustrophobic?”

He shrugged uneasily. “It's not the size,” he said. “It's not knowing what's on the other side of that door.”

“I'm not wild about it either.” Jocelyn admitted.

Jace grimaced. Neither of them had any notion of how long they'd been in that cell. One of their jailers had come by earlier with some bottled water and convenience store sandwiches, but that was all gone now and there was nothing to distract him from the grating sense of helplessness.

In the distance, he thought he herd voices, loud and agitated, and Jace frowned, wondering what had happened. For a brief moment he entertained the idea that it might be Alec and Isabelle but he quelled that thought quickly. Wishes had never done him much good before.

“What do you think's going on out there?” he asked as the noises in the corridor grew louder and the sound of angry voices carried through into the dark cell.

Jocelyn shrugged. “These guys are always attracting some kind of trouble or another.”

After a minute or two, the voices began to draw closer, accompanied by the tread of many feet.

Jocelyn exchanged an uneasy look with Jace and climbed to her feet, just as the cell door slid open with a clang.

Whitehawk was standing in the doorway, accompanied by a posse of minions, all in black. They filed into the room, fanning out around the doorway and Jace noticed that each of them had a hand resting on their weapon. And there was Lydia, propped lazily against the doorframe, twisting Jace's knife between her fingers.

Jace felt his jaw clench and he forced himself to look away, resisting the urge to lunge at her.

Whitehawk walked straight past Jace, ignoring him completely, to stand in front of Jocelyn.

“You're back,” she muttered tiredly. “Was hell getting too warm for you?”

“Where's the cup, Rhiannon?” he snapped.

She only glowered back at him silently.

Without warning, he grabbed her shoulders. “Say something, woman!” he demanded, shaking her violently.

When he stopped, she regarded him levelly and said, “Are you going to hit me again?”

The edge of ice in her voice made him recoil as surely as if she'd slapped him.

“Tell me where it is,” he said, more softly this time.

“I wouldn't tell you before,” she muttered. “What gave you the impression I'd changed my mind?”

“We don't have time for this,” he hissed. “Tell me. Now.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Rhi!” he yelled. “When did you become such a fucking martyr?”

“About the same time you decided to become a war criminal,” Jocelyn answered, her lip twisting slightly in a sneer.

Whitehawk sighed, rubbing his jaw tiredly. “This isn't working,” he muttered. “And I'm running out of patience.” He looked over at one of his goons and nodded.

In an instant, two of them had Jace in a grip so tight he could barely move, his arms twisted painfully behind him.

Jace thought he saw the briefest flash of panic in Jocelyn's face but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

Unhurriedly, Whitehawk drew his gun from its holster and pointed it squarely between Jace's eyes. “Let's try this,” he said. “I'm going to count to ten. Then, either you tell me where the damn cup is, or he dies.”

“Don't!” Jace yelled, ignoring the unpleasant pressure it brought on his elbow joints. “It's too important!”

As much as he disliked having a gun pointed at his head, the thought of everything Jocelyn had done going to waste because of him was more than he could take.

He might as well have remained silent for all the response he got.

“One.”

Jace's heart started beating faster and he fixed his eyes on Jocelyn.

“Two.”

He swallowed anxiously.

“Three.”

Seven more seconds and it would all be over. He closed his eyes. Just seven seconds...

“Jo.” Jocelyn's voice was quiet.

Jace's breath caught and his eyes flew open, staring desperately at her.

“I will never tell you where the cup is,” she went on. “I already sacrificed everything to stop you and there is nothing you can promise or threaten that will convince me to help you now.”

“Is that so,” Whitehawk said coolly.

“Killing him won't get you anything but another dead shadowhunter,” she replied. “We used to be married, Jo. If you ever knew me at all, you know I'm not bluffing.”

Whitehawk regarded her narrowly for a long moment. “Four,” he said at last, tightening his grip on the pistol.

“If you're going to kill him, just do it,” Jocelyn snapped. “Don't drag this ridiculous farce out any longer than you already have.”

“See that's the thing, Rhiannon,” Whitehawk replied. “I do know you. And I know how much you hate to see other people hurt because of you.”

She glared back at him coldly.

“Five.”

Silence.

Whitehawk frowned. “You'd really just stand there and watch him die?” he asked. “When a single word from you could save him?”

“Yes,” Jocelyn replied, and Jace could feel his breath coming faster.

“Think carefully, Rhi,” Whitehawk said, his voice soft, cajoling, “After everything you've done, do you really want another death on you conscience?”

Jocelyn's eyes narrowed. “I'm not the one holding the gun, Jo,” she told him coldly. “I have my own guilt. I won't take yours, too. If you shoot him, that's on you. There's nothing I can do to stop you. But either way, I'm still not going to do what you want, so if you pull that trigger, it will be purely out of spite.”

The words lingered between them in the silence before Whitehawk lowered the gun and nodded for his goons to let go of Jace. Jace nearly collapsed to the floor, having burned through what felt lie a lifetime's supply of adrenaline, but somehow managed to keep his feet.

In a flicker of movement, Whitehawk brought the gun up and fired once.

Jace's heart nearly stopped as the sound of the gunshot registered, ringing in his ears. Jocelyn yelled in pain and fell backward, clutching at her thigh with bloodstained fingers.

Jace lunged towards her, arriving too late to catch her fall. None the less, he got an arm around her shoulders, lending her support, and glared fiercely at Whitehawk.

“You fucking bastard,” he hissed.

Whitehawk ignored him. “I'm running out of patience,” he said. Turning to leave, he looked over his shoulder and added, “We'll talk more later.”

Jace wanted nothing more than to lunge for him and claw his smarmy face off, but he could feel Jocelyn leaning heavily against him, her breath coming fast and ragged as blood welled up between her fingers.

“Come on,” Jace muttered, ignoring the sound of the cell door slamming shut. “Let's get you fixed up.”


	17. Chapter 17

The car had barely stopped in the garage when Alec and Isabelle leapt out of it, stalking away own the hall with urgent steps. Simon and I stumbled out after them, struggling to keep up as they turned down an unfamiliar corridor.

“Alec,” I called, my brain still fogged from my unplanned nap on the drive home. “Slow down. What's going on?”

“We're going to get Jace and your mother back,” he replied.

“I was kind of hoping for more specifics,” I muttered, my words trailing off as we came to a large room stocked with every kind of weapon imaginable. “I feel like I just fell into a really bad action movie,” I breathed.

“Gear up,” Alec ordered.

“There's some ammunition for your nine-millimetre over there,” Isabelle said, pointing. “Unless you wanted something with a little more firepower.”

“Uh, no, thanks,” I said, a little dazedly. “I think I'll stick with what I've got – but I'll take a knife, if you've got one.”

Isabelle snorted. “Over there,” she said. “Take your pick.”

After a quick stop to restock my ammunition, I visited the shelf Isabelle had indicated and whistled. There were a handful of throwing knives, several machetes of varying degree of intensity, even something which, in my hardly expert estimation, appeared to be a broadsword. And I thought we'd looked suspicious before.

Seeing me floundering amid the sea of knives, Isabelle came over to me. “Here,” she said, handing me a discrete hunting knife.

“Thanks.” I clipped it to my belt and went to go find Simon.

When I caught sight of him, he was eyeing a bow, weighing it in his hands.

“Careful with that, Simon,” Isabelle called. “That's not a toy; it's dangerous.”

“I'm well aware, Isabelle, but I appreciate your concern,” Simon replied dryly.

“Just don't hurt yourself,” she went on. “No offence but these things -”

“Aren't toys,” Simon interrupted. “I know. This is a Black Dragonfly compound bow.” He hefted it easily, drawing the string back.. “The draw's a little heavier than I'm used to,” he added, easing the string back to it's original position, “but I think I'll manage.”

“Oh...”

At Isabelle's look, he explained, “I did archery competitively all through high school – even won a few medals. My mom was very proud. I think she still has them lined up somewhere so she can brag about me when she has people over. It's all a little embarrassing to tell you the truth.”

When Isabelle glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow, I only shrugged and said, “You never asked.”

“Well that's good to know,” Isabelle said, eyeing Simon curiously.

“I just figured I should be armed,” he said, “and I’ll be more use with this than with a gun.”

“You're not coming,” Alex said sharply.

“It's adorable that you still think that's going to work,” Simon replied. His tone was light but I could her the edge of steel underneath it.

Alec was trying to protect him; I should have been on his side. But I wasn't. I felt a twinge of guilt at how badly I wanted Simon to come with me, even if it meant putting him in danger.

“It's not safe,” Alec went on firmly.

“That's not really your problem, Alec,” Simon said, his voice taking on a tone of quiet stubbornness that I'd seldom heard from him. “I'm not your responsibility; I don't take orders from you.”

Alec's jaw worked ad he turned to me. I looked back at him squarely but said nothing. He couldn't threaten to leave me behind – not when I was the only one who could read Magnus' map.

“Fine,” Alec growled. “Let's go.”

“Hold on!” I cut in. “We need a plan!”

He paused reluctantly. “We'll attack them head on, keep their focus on us, while you sneak in the back.”

“Just me?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

He nodded. “I don't like it either,” he admitted. “But we don't have a lot of firepower so stealth is our best bet. The more people we have walking around in there, the more likely it is that they'll get caught.

“Okay,” I breathed, squeezing the hand of the hunting knife nervously.

“Are you sure you want to rush into this?” Simon asked quietly. “That plan is pretty threadbare and there's only five of us.”

“Unless you want to wait a week or so for support to arrive from central -”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Agreed,” Simon muttered.

“Then this is our best chance,” Alec finished. “Raphael said he'd meet us there with any support he can muster. I doubt they'll stick around past sunrise, though, so that gives us -” He glanced at his watch “- a little less than three hours.”

“Then we'd better get moving,” I said.

“Exactly,” Alec replied, striding towards the door.

I followed after him, half jogging. Wen we got to the garage, Luke was waiting for us in his wolf form, standing beside the car. He yipped impatiently at us as we approached, herding us towards the car.

I slid into the back seat, awkwardly negotiating the new weapon on my hip. Simon made to follow me ut Isabelle caught his arm.

“Uh-uh, buddy,” she said. “You take shot-gun. I've got to talk to Clary.”

As she settled in beside me, she reached into a pocket and said, “Give me your arm.”

“What?” I asked, only to realize what she meant as the care began to accelerate aggressively out of the garage.

“If you're going up against the Filii, you're going to want every advantage you can get.”

“What'd you have in mind?”

“The basics,” she said. “Speed, strength – senses, too, probably, and a veil to keep you hidden.”

“I though you couldn't hide from other shadowhunters,” I said.

She shrugged. “Not completely,” she allowed. “But it still helps.”

I grimaced. I didn't much like the idea of Isabelle carving up my arms in a moving car but she had a point. “Fine,” I said, “just get it over with.”

She lifted the knife and I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting m teeth against the sudden sharp pain.

It took an uncomfortably long time for her to finish. When I opened my eyes again, it was disconcerting to look down and see the black marks that had sprouted all along my arms.

“Can Simon see me?” I asked.

“No.”

“But you can.”

She nodded. “The glyph directs the eye away from you, but it just doesn't work as well on us as it does on mundanes. If you're talking to someone or doing something to hold their attention, the mark won't do much, but it might help you stay unnoticed if they're not already looking for you.”

“That's reassuring,” I muttered.

“Sorry,” she said. “It's the best I've got.”

“Thanks,” I said. “How long will these last?”

“About an hour,” she told me. “It varies, but when the marks start to fade, the effect will too.”

Simon glanced back at us and made an odd noise.

“What?”

He made a face. “This is so weird,” he muttered.

“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”

He shook himself. “It's all good,” he said. “I'll just... not look at you if that's okay.”

“Sure.”

“Not that there's much to look at,”” he muttered under his breath.

I pulled out the map and examined it anxiously, wishing it had come with clear labels and a legend. I brushed my fingers gently over the spot near the center from which the pulsating red lines of the map seemed to originate.

“What's that,” Isabelle asked, peering over my shoulder.

“I'm hoping that's my mom,” I replied, not looking up.

“Do you suppose that's Jace, then?” She pointed at another spot, smaller than the first and so faint that I probably wouldn't have noticed it at all if she hadn't drawn my attention to it.

“I don't know,” I said softly. I hoped it was, but I had no way to know for sure and false reassurances wouldn't help anyone.

After a few more minutes, Alec pulled over on a dark side street and Raphael materialized out of the shadows.

“A few of us were starting to think you weren't coming,” he rumbled.

“We had to grab some things,” Alec replied, his hand resting easily on the holster of his gun.

Raphael made a vaguely discontented noise but didn't elaborate.

“How many do you have?” Alec asked.

“Hard to find anyone that's eager for a face to face conversation with the Filii,” Raphael replied slowly. “Especially in a hurry. But I found a few.”

He turned, gesturing for us to follow, and led us a ways down the street here a small cluster of shadowy figures waited.

I glanced from person to person, counting quickly. Four – plus Raphael – and then the five of us, not that I was going to be much help from inside.

“Sharon's been scouting the place out,” Raphael went on genially. “She's saying fifteen warm bodies inside.”

I bit my lip nervously. It could have been worse but I had still hoped for better odds.

“We'll manage,” Alec said, though he didn't sound much happier about the situation than I was.

“Youthful optimism,” Raphael said with a broad grin. “Or shadowhunter arrogance. They're not so different. I'm surprised you brought the human, though,” he added, raising an eyebrow at Simon.

“Nah, the human brought himself,” Simon countered, with an unsuccessful attempt at his usual cheer.

Raphael chuckled. “I hope you survive,” he said. “You're clever.”

“Do you know what your doing?” Alec asked, turning to me.

“No,” I muttered, my stomach twisting in a vicious knot.

“You can do this,” Isabelle said softly. “If you're not out in a reasonable amount of time, I'll come in after you.”

“How much is a 'reasonable amount'?” I asked, my heart racing.

She looked at her watch. “Thirty-seven minutes,” she said. “If you're still not out by the time those glyphs run out, you're going to need the help.”

“Fair enough,” I breathed, gripping Magnus' map more tightly.

“Sharon says there's a side entrance off the parking lot,” Raphael told me. “She can take you there.”

“Thanks,” I said quickly.

“Then if that's settled, let's go make some noise.” Raphael flashed a grin and started making his way towards the larger industrial building a few hundred feet away.

As Simon made to followed him, Alex stopped him, putting a hand on his chest. “Look,” he muttered. “I let you come, but if you don't listen to me now, you'll get yourself killed.”

“Okay.”

“Stay at the edge of the fighting, keep track of your arrows, keep your knife with you and when I tell you to run, you run.” Alec's voice was firm, commanding.

“Okay,” Simon said again.

“We're going to be leaving in a hurry and I need to know where you are.”

“I understand,” Simon told him. “I won't wander off.”

With a final nod Alec released him and the started after Raphael.

I trailed behind them uncertainly, clutching my map in nervous fingers. As we drew closer to the building, a woman approached me. Her footsteps were eerily quiet against the noise of the night and I found my skin prickling as she got closer.

“Sharon, right?” I asked, finally.

She blinked bright eyes at me and her lips twisted in an odd expression, offering me a brief glimpse of inhuman and very predatory teeth. “I used to eat things like you,” she told me easily.

“Oh,” I said, swallowing.

“But tonight we are allies,” she went on with an eerie smile.

“Right,” I agreed. Breathe, I reminded myself. Oxygen is important.

She led me away from the others, towards a nearly abandoned paring lot. She stopped just outside the faint ring of light emanating from the solitary lamppost and held up a hand for me to wait. I glanced around anxiously, half expecting some angry Filii members to jump out from behind one of the cars.

Instead, I head the sound of gunfire from around the front of the building. As the noise grew louder and more violent, Sharon gestured for me to follow her and crept quietly towards a small alcove in the wall. There was a heavy door tucked inside it, latched shut with a large padlock.

Without a word, Sharon rested her hand on it and I saw a faint imprint – almost lie feathers – ripple briefly over her skin. Then she jerked her hand quickly and the lock snapped, falling to the ground in pieces. She pulled the door open and nodded for me to go inside.

“Thanks,” I breathed. “And . . . good luck.”

She only grinned, baring all her teeth, and darted away to join the fighting.

Then the door slipped shut behind me, leaving me alone.

***

Jace sat facing the door, his back against the cold concrete wall. Jocelyn was slumped tiredly beside him, her eyes half closed.

They'd managed to get the bleeding stopped – mostly – though they'd had to sacrifice one of Jocelyn's pant legs and Jace's jacket to do it. The bullet had gone cleanly through the outside of Jocelyn's thigh, missing the femur by an inch and a half. As gunshot wounds went, it was probably the best case scenario; Whitehawk had aimed carefully.

“Asshole,” Jace grumbled.

“Yes,” Jocelyn said softly, not opening her eyes. Her breathing came fast and shallow.

Jace looked down at his hands unhappily. He had removed his heavy combat boots after their visit from Whitehawk, figuring they would make a decent projectile weapon. There was certainly something satisfying about the image of the heavy sole smashing in the nose of the next person to walk through the door.

But it had been hours since then – or felt like it – and there was no sign of any imminent visitors. Despite Jace's best efforts, the combination of pain, fatigue, and blood-loos was taking it's toll on Jocelyn. She was fading fast, and as appealing as it was to imagine throwing heavy objects at Whitehawk, Jace would almost have been happy to see him if it meant finally getting her some actual first aid.

Then a few minutes ago, the first peal of gunshots had echoed down the corridor, followed by frantic footsteps and the distant sounds of fighting. Jace found himself oddly detached from the whole thing. For the moment, his world had shrunk down to that dark cell and the two people inside it.

A sudden scream tore through the darkness and Jace drew in his breath sharply, feeling Jocelyn tense beside him. After a moment, she relaxed with a quiet groan, her hand drifting to her leg.

“How's it feeling?” Jace asked.

She gave a tired shrug. “I've been better,” she allowed. Then she swallowed. “I've been getting chills,” she added, almost reluctantly, her voice soft.

Jace looked at her and frowned, wishing – not for the first time – that there were some actual help he could offer. Instead, he just took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Her skin was cold and clammy against his – not a good sign. She was going into shock. Whitehawk was going to have to get his terrorist ass in there – and soon – if he wanted her to be alive come tomorrow.

“How'd you end up in here anyway?” Jocelyn asked, her voice weak.

“Didn't you see?” Jace replied. “I went up against Lydia and she kicked my ass and threw me in here with you.”

“Maybe not the best call,” Jocelyn told him with a half-hearted snort.

“Yeah, well, I don't always make the best decisions,” Jace grumbled. “That's Alec's job.”

“I guess it's hard to be rational when things get personal,” she murmured.

Jace looked at her sharply. “I don't now what you're talking about,” he snapped.

She shrugged. “I've seen how you look at her. That's hate – believe me, I’m familiar with the feeling. That doesn't spring up over the course of two days. It festers.”

“It's not a look,” Jace snapped. “That's just my face. I look at everyone that way.”

“Okay,” Jocelyn said, falling silent.

Jace stewed for a long moment, then sighed. “We've met before,” he admitted. “Just once, when I was younger.”

“I see.”

“I don't really want to talk about it,” he added, his jaw tight.

“Okay,” Jocelyn said again. After a short silence, she asked, “Who do you think is winning out there?”

“It doesn't matter,” Jace snapped, throwing the boot in his hand against the far wall with all his strength. Whoever was going to win had better do it soon. Jocelyn wasn't going to make it much longer.

***

I glanced down the dimly lit hallway and then back at my map. I couldn't see any signs of movement in the distance, which was a relief. Twice already I'd had to duck hastily into dark corners as someone hurried past. Fortunately, Isabelle's glyphs seemed to be working like a charm.

I started down the hallway, moving lightly on the balls of my feet and sticking close to the wall. As I walked, I checked the map repeatedly, trying to make sure I was in the right place. I'd had to retrace my steps too many times already.

At last, I came to a wide steel door at an intersection that seemed to match the map. Then again, T-intersections weren't all that distinctive, and with no way to know who or what was on the other side of that door, I was reluctant to just go barging in. I checked the map again, an then glanced around nervously, bu if I wanted to know what was through that door, there was only one way to be sure.

Hesitantly, I leaned in and rapped my knuckles against the door three times.

After a moment, a muffled voice rang out, “Just open the damn door, you son of a bitch. Quit fucking around.”

I felt a wave of relief rush over me and I grinned. “Jace!”

A short pause, then, “Clary?”

I scrambled at the latch and strained to slide the door open. Jace was waiting on the other side, looking chilled in a too thin t-shirt and sock feet.

I frowned. “Where are your shoes?”

He didn't bother answering me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, an odd expression on his face.

I smiled. “I'm rescuing you, idiot,” I told him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. But . . . .”

“Clary?” The voice came from behind Jace in one of the shadowy corners of the room.

I ran towards it, momentarily forgetting Jace altogether.

“Mom!” I threw my arms around her, burying my face in her neck. Her skin was cool and damp, her breathing ragged. Concerned, I stumbled back to get a better look at her. Right away, I felt my stomach clench. She had a fresh black eye, among a number of other scrapes and bruises, and the side of her right thigh was caked in drying blood.

“What happened?' I breathed, my throat tight.

“It doesn't matter,” she said quietly. “I told you to run.”

“I know,” I said. “I didn't listen.”

“So I see.” She sighed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, let's get moving before someone comes in to check on us.”

I nodded quickly and crouched beside her, sliding an arm around her waist. Jace hurried to her other side and between the two of us, we managed to haul her to her feet – my mother wasn't an especially small woman and she didn't have nearly enough energy to stand on her own.

Together, we shuffled toward the door, moving no where near as quickly or as quietly as I would have liked. A loud crash in the distance, beyond the walls of the warehouse, made us stop suddenly, exchanging uneasy looks.

“What's going on out there?” Jace asked as we started walking again.

“Alec's leading an attack on the Filii,” I explained. “To keep their attention off us.”

“They're going to get killed,” Jace muttered darkly.

“They have backup,” I told him, but I left it at that. It was probably best not to try explaining Raphael and his crew just now.

“How'd you find us?”

“We had some help from a man named Magnus Bane,” I said.

I felt my mother stiffen beside me.

Jace made a disgusted noise. “Bane's a rat,” he muttered. “He doesn't do anything without strings attached.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well, he owed me a favour.” I opted not to explain that either. The brief expression of bewilderment that passed across Jace's features was too perfect to pass up. Let him wonder what I meant.

“Why didn't you run?” my mother asked, her voice weak. This strain was wearing on her.

“Jace kidnapped me,” I replied. It was true, after all, even if it wasn't the whole reason.

Jace started to say something in his defense but the faint sound of voices down the hall caught my attention and I hushed him quickly. Leaving him to support my mother on his own, I tiptoed forward and dared a cautious glance around the corner.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. . . .

There were two Filii members at the end of the hall, blocking our way out. I pulled back, weighing our options.

One of them seemed to be injured – I couldn't tell how badly – but even so, I didn't much like the idea of going up against these guys one on one. I still had my nine millimetre but the sound of gunshots was certain to bring more goons down on us. We might be able to wait it out in the hopes that they'd move on, but I didn't really think we had that kind of time. I wasn't sure how long I'd been in there but the thirty-seven minutes Isabelle had given me had to be running out.

I made my way back to Jace and my mom as quietly as I could. I point at the bend in the hallway and held up two fingers.

My mom slumped a little as I did and I ducked under her arm to help Jace hold her up.

“What now?” I breathed.

Before anyone could answer, the two goons started moving loser, their heavy tired footsteps echoing off the walls.

“Go back,” I hissed, ushering our little part back the way we'd come. The goons would round the corner any second.

“In here,” Jace said quickly, pulling us through a narrow doorway.

I closed the door firmly behind us and pressed my ear against it, listening anxiously as the pair of footsteps plodded past and then faded. I let my breath out slowly through my teeth.

My mother's sudden vicelike grip on my arm made me jump and I turned around, the bottom dropping out of my stomach.

“Rhiannon,” came a man's gentle voice. “I didn't expect to see you out and about.”


	18. Chapter 18

The mild mannered man on the other side of the desk looked across at us evenly, his cold grey gaze sliding straight past me to settle on my mother. I'd never met the man but the image of his face, of his arm draped possessively over my mother's shoulders, was burned into my brain. Whitehawk.

Still reeling from this new development, it didn't even occur to me to reach for my gun until Whitehawk said, his voice bland and even, “Put the pistol down.”

I was loathe to part with it but Whitehawk's own gun, pointed firmly at my head, made for a compelling argument. I crouched slowly, placing the gun gently on the concrete floor, uncomfortably conscious of the knife tucked into my belt.

With that, Whitehawk seemed to lose interest in me completely, though his gun stayed where it was.

“The girl is new,” he said. “I'll admit, Rhi, I'm surprised. Here I thought you were close to breaking and yet you seem to have called up a small army out of no where.”

There was an icy pause and then my mother spoke. “And you're still bravely leading from the rear,” she murmured. “No surprises there.” Her voice was tired and ragged but scathing none the less.

“Calculated risk,” he replied, his voice dangerously soft. “I can't afford to be reckless. Otherwise _I_ might be the one tragically failing to escape enemy hands.”

I shot a look at Jace who set his jaw and readjusted his grip on my mother.

Whitehawk's aim shifted from me to Jace faster than I could blink and we both went deathly still. There went any desperate plan of grabbing the gun and turning the tables on him.

“Honestly, Rhi, where'd you dig these kids up?”

“I didn't,” she said quietly, her eyes wary. “Just lucky, I guess.”

I could feel her shaking beside me, her breath coming fast and ragged. I shot a nervous glance at her leg and saw the fresh blood was soaking through her makeshift bandage.

Whitehawk had shot her once and he might shoot Jace or I any second. Assuming he didn't have anything worse planned. I glared up at him, my eyes burning.

“You fucking asshole,” I hissed.

My mother's up tightened on my arm, suggesting restraint, but I ignored it. We were all but dead anyway. What did I have to lose?

For the first time, Whitehawk turned is cold grey eyes on me, a slightly perplexed expression on his face.

“Clary...” Jace muttered warningly, but I was beyond listening.

My hands shook but I met Whitehawk's gaze evenly. “You're a real, fucking piece of work, you know that?” I told him, my voice growing stronger.

“It's been said,” Whitehawk replied. The bastard even had the nerve to look faintly amused. My jaw clenched.

“I always knew you were a fucking bastard,” I went on. “Hell, I was hardly even surprised when you turned out to be a genocidal maniac – but, boy, did you exceed my fucking expectations.”

“Clary, stop.” It was my mother's voice, urgent, wary. I barely heard her.

“This is how you treat people you pretend to care about?” I snapped. “No wonder she left.”

All trace of amusement had gone from Whitehawk's face and his grey eyes were very cold.

“And who exactly are you?” he asked, his voice hard. “I don't believe we've met.”

“No,” I said, a touch of satisfaction creeping into my voice. “We haven't met, because my mom was smart enough to keep me the fuck away from you, you son of a bitch.”

His eyes narrowed in anger and confusion, then widened ever so slightly and drifted past me to my mother.

I felt her slump beside me. Jace glared at me accusingly as Whitehawk's gaze flickered from me to my mother, enlightenment creeping across his features.

“Rhi,” he breathed, his aggressive posture beginning to soften.

I shrunk back a little, my brain finally starting to catch up with my temper. Oh, shit...

Whitehawk looked at me, his features melting into a dazed smile. His voice, when he spoke, was almost exultant. “You,”' I murmured. “I have -”

“No,” I cut him off coldly. “You're not my father.”

He frowned in confusion.

“I don't have a father,”' I went on. “I disown you.”

His attention was solely on me now and out of the corner of my eye, I saw his gun arm beginning to relax. Maybe I could salvage this after all.

“She never told me,” he murmured. “I never knew.” His eyebrows drew up and for a moment, his expression had an air of almost childlike vulnerability.

Shit. I had definitely stepped in it, but it was too late take any of it back. Just kidding! Totally not related to you in any way! Please go back to ignoring me completely . . .

“We did just fine without you,” I muttered. It sounded weak without my temper fueling everything I said.

The room seemed to grow darker all of a sudden and I wondered for a moment if the power had gone out, but as my eyes adjusted to the new light, I saw the glyphs Isabelle had carved into my arm were fading. We were running out of time.

Releasing my hold on my mother's waist, I stepped gingerly towards Whitehawk, watching him warily. If we were going to move, it had to be soon.

“You're evil,” I said. I didn't have much talent for acting. Best to be blunt and honest. “You've hurt people.”

Even in the darkness, I could see him shrinking away from me, hurt.

This was the tricky part. “Let us go,” I said. “Let us go now, and I'll forgive all of it.” That couldn't have been farther from the truth – somethings couldn't be forgiven and this bastard had hurt my mom – but I hoped my desperation would make it sound believable.

His lips thinned and he regarded me sadly. “I can't,” he told me, sounding almost apologetic. “I wish I could make you understand . . .”

I felt me stomach clench. “I could never understand someone who attacks their own family.”

Without warning, the door burst open, knocking my mother and I to the floor as Isabelle started firing. Winded though I was, my brain still worked enough for me to take advantage of the distraction. I grabbed my gun from the floor where it lay, just a few inches from my hand. Then I grabbed the knife from my belt and hurled it blindly towards Jace, hoping that he was paying enough attention to catch it – ideally not blade first.

As gunshots sounded above me, I pulled myself into a firing position and took aim.

Whitehawk, meanwhile, had ducked behind his desk, one of those sturdy, wooden contraptions. Fortunately for me, it didn't reach all the way to the floor. I lower myself down and aimed for the dark shadows of Whitehawk's feet. Before I could fire, he moved, faster than I would have thought possible, and dove through the high, small window behind the desk.

I blinked. We weren't on the ground floor. Even if he survived the fall – and who was I kidding, of course he survived – the landing couldn't be pleasant.

“Cutting it a little close, don't you think?” said Isabelle, hauling me to my feet.

“I knew you had my back,” I panted, my heart racing.

“Isabelle!” Tired though he was, Jace actually sounded happy to see her. Jace. Sounded happy.

“Good to see you're okay,” Isabelle said with a grin. “Come on. The rest are by the car; we don't have much time.”

As I bent to help my mother up, I saw that her eyes were fixed on the wall - or, more specifically, on the large painting that was leaning against it, as though waiting to be hung. Belatedly, I recognized it as the painting that had gone missing from her collection when the Filii ransacked our apartment.

It was a somewhat surreal piece, larger and probably older than I was. It showed a gloomy forest glade and at the centre, a shining grey fox, curled protectively around a large iron goblet, the inside stained a menacing black. The Mortal Cup. Was it sentiment that had made Whitehawk decide to keep it? And if so, was it the subject matter or the artist that had captured his attention?

I shuddered.

“Come on,” said Isabelle urgently. “We have to go.”

As Jace and I levered my mother to her feet, she said, “The painting. . .” Her voice was so faint that I hardly heard her. She was fading fast – how much blood had she lost?

Isabelle poked her head out the door and then turned back to us to whisper, “I'll take point. Follow me.”

Struggling to balance my mother between us, Jace and I made our way to the door.

As we drew closer to the stairwell at the end of the hall, my mother started again. “You have to get -” The last words were trampled by a series of wracking coughs.

I tightened my grip in her pulling her after Isabelle, and started hurling a string of silent curses at Whitehawk.

“Don't try to talk, Jocelyn,” Jace said softly. “We've got you now.”

I blinked, taken aback. Never in a million years would I have imagined Jace using that tone or saying those words.

My mom only shook her head violently, nearly pulling herself out of our grasp.

“What is it?” Isabelle asked, concerned.

Before anyone could reply, a woman appeared in the hallway behind us and opened fire. We dove – or stumbled – through the door to the stairs while Isabelle ducked around us to shoot back. I reached for my gun belt but I couldn't get to it without my mother slipping out of my grasp. I looked frantically at Jace who nodded and bent, tucking one hand behind my mothers knees and pulled her into his arms, muscles straining with the effort. Jace was strong, but my mother wasn't a small woman. He couldn't keep this up for long.

“Go,” Isabelle hissed. “I'll cover you.”

Without another word, Jace started making his way down the stairs as fast as he could – which, with the added weight of a well muscled forty-something-year-old, was not all that fast. I went on beside him, my gun at the ready, while Isabelle took up the rear.

We had barely made it down one flight of stairs when another figure appeared on the landing and I took aim. Maybe it was Isabelle's glyphs or maybe it was all those hours on the shooting range finally paying off, but the first shot took him squarely in the chest.

No sooner had he hit the ground than something started scuttling towards us from the hallway beyond. It looked something like a millipede, black and shiny, but about eight feet long and a foot across. I barely managed to contain a squeak of revulsion and fired again but the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its armoured exoskeleton.

As it drew closer, it reared up, revealing a gaping mouth on the underside with row upon row of snapping teeth. In a panic, I stumbled back and emptied my gun clip into the thing's mouth, damn near sawing the terrifying creature in half.

It let out a tortured wail and collapsed back to the floor before crumpling away into nothing, leaving only a pool of black blood.

“Demons,” I breathed. “Do you think there are more of them?”

“I wouldn't rule it out,” Jace replied through gritted teeth. His skin was damp with sweat and his muscles were straining visibly. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

“Come on.” I reloaded my gun and pressed on down the hallway.

As we walked, some intangible shadow seemed to coil around my feet and I went sprawling, my fun slipping out of my fingers. The loud thump behind me told me that whatever it was had gotten Jace as well. I reached for the gun and looked up just in time to see a dark and shapeless creature congealed in front of us. It threw out black tendrils in every direction which hooked into the walls and pulled it along the concrete floor. Its face was indistinct and cloaked in shadow, but it seemed to me, as it drew closer, that it was twisted into a hungry grin. I lifted my gun and shot at it but it had all the affect of shooting a pool of water; it rippled and reformed as if nothing had happened.

“It won't work,” Jace muttered as I scrambled back to him and my mom. “Is this one of Isabelle's?” he held up the knife I'd thrown to him earlier.

I grimaced. “Maybe,” I said. “She handed it to me.”

“Then let's hope this works.” He twisted sharply and threw the knife at the creature, striking it more or less in the centre of its distorted face. The blade hit with a solid sounding thunk and the demon began to thrash and flail about in silent agony. As it died, it grew smaller, more solid, resolving into a shapeless black mass in the centre of the hallway. It lingered for only a moment before it too crumpled into nothing.

“Silver?” I asked.

Jace nodded. “It usually does the trick.”

Stiffly and painfully, we recovered our feet, then Jace turned to get my mother who was collapsed weakly against the wall. As he bent to pick her up, she grabbed his shoulder, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. When she finished speaking, he stiffened and looked sharply back the way we'd come, then at me, then back at my mother.

“No time now,” she breathed, just loud enough to hear.

He stared down at her anxiously but she waved him away with a weak hand. An unnerving rattling noise came from the end of the hallway, accompanied by angry, urgent voices.

“We can't keep going like this,” my mother breathed. “Go on,” she told Jace. “See if you can clear a path for us.”

He looked down at her unhappily but recovered his knife and went to go see what lay ahead. Isabelle caught up a moment later, bleeding from a fresh wound on her arm.

“We don't have time to stop,” she said, breathing heavily.

“I know,” I said, jumping as a cacophony of bullets rang out from the down the hall. “They've got us blocked in. Jace is up ahead.”

I'd barely finished speaking before she darted after him, gun in hand. The sounds of fighting quieted for a moment and I crouched beside my mother. “Let's go,” I muttered.

She shook her head and pulled away from me. “There's no time,” she said. “I'm slowing you down.”

“No you're not,” I said quickly, grabbing for her arm.

“Clary, listen to me,” she rasped, catching my chin in blood-stained fingers. “If they catch us all, then none of this matters. You have to leave me here.”

I felt her words like a vice around my chest, squeezing until I couldn't breathe. “No,” I said again.

“Yes,” she replied, her expression calm, resigned – and, above all, tired. “Now don't waste any more time. I need you to be safe.”

“And what about you?” I snapped.

“Just go.”

I stood slowly, my throat tight, my hands clenched into fists. I knew she was right, but it felt like a betrayal to admit it, even to myself. Even as I tried to walk away, my muscles seemed to strain to keep me there.

“Damn it!” I burst out finally, slamming my hand into the wall. It hurt, but the pain calmed me. I looked down at my mom and held out the gun. “Take it,” I said flatly. “I'll be fine.”

As she took it fro me, one of the Filii appeared in the doorway and started firing. My mom shot him between the eyes, then turned to me. “Go,” she snapped. “Now.”

I hated her for making me do this but I knew better than to argue about it so I started running. I finally caught up with Jace and Isabelle a few yards from the door, stuck in a firefight with one of Whitehawk's people. They were just around the corner from her, surrounded by splashes of demon blood and the shadowhunter woman was the only thing left between us and the door.

Jace's eyes widened when he saw me coming.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“It doesn't matter,” I said blankly, not looking at him.

Isabelle landed a fatal hit on the woman in the doorway and started forward. “Come on,” she hissed.

Jace wasn't listening. “You left her.” His voice was quiet but it dripped with anger and disgust.

I didn't answer.

He shoved past me, headed back down the hallway and I grabbed his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going to get her,” he snarled.

'No,” I said, too tired to put much fight in it. “She made her choice.”

“I don't care,” he snapped, pulling his arm out of my grasp.

I slapped him. “She sacrificed herself to buy us time,” I hissed. “Don't waste it.”

As I spoke, an eerie growl game from down the hallway and another demon came rushing towards us. I shoved Jace in the direction of the door and we all took off at a run. We reached it just as the bullets started bouncing off the wall and I dove through the door, slamming it shut behind me.

I saw the car only a few yards away, with Alec waiting anxiously in the driver's seat and Luke beside him, still in wolf form. Simon opened the side door and we ran for it, piling inelegantly into the backseat.

The car started moving the instant the last person landed, before we even got the door closed.

It was a few seconds before Simon looked around and said, “Hey, where's your mom?”

Alec and Luke looked back sharply and I opened my mouth but my throat caught.

“She's not here,” Jace said finally, shooting me an accusing look.

I ignored him. I closed my eyes and rested my head on my knees, shutting him out.

We'd been so close and it had all gone to shit. I'd lost my mom. Again.

But tomorrow I could start over. I would get her back eventually, no matter what it took.

The car drove on in the silence, and, in the east, the sun began to break over the horizon.


End file.
